


From the Fires of Mordor

by SOABA



Series: Kismet [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo Baggins Destroys the One Ring, Canon-Typical Violence, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Elf Culture & Customs, F/M, Families of Choice, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Hobbit Culture & Customs, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOABA/pseuds/SOABA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Saruman wants, above all else, Bella Baggins dead.”</p><p>After destroying the One Ring, Bella is sent to live in Erebor. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield will do whatever they must to keep her safe. But it may be up to Bella to save them instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part the First

**Author's Note:**

> It's National Write a Novel Month. This is my contribution. I'll get back to my other stories once November is over, I promise, but for now, enjoy!

**_Chapter One_ **

It was the largest gathering of royalty, nobility, and wizards to be held in an age. It was certainly the largest that Dale, great kingdom that it had once been and, with the blessing of the Valar, would be again, had ever hosted. It really was no wonder, Fíli mused to himself, that King Bard looked so stressed about the whole affair.

Kings Thorin and Thranduil sat on opposite ends of the long, pine table that one of Bard’s advisors had miraculously managed to dig up. Dale had seen much improvement since Smaug’s demise, to be sure, but it had been less than a year, one with an abnormally harsh winter at that, and this was hardly enough time to restore such a large kingdom to its former glory. Fíli had firsthand knowledge of this truth, because Erebor was in much the same state.

Fíli was sitting at Thorin’s right, with Lord Dáin on his uncle’s left. Thranduil, too, had his heir, the Prince Legolas, and one of his closet advisors on either side of his person. In between these two most temperamental kings sat the Wizards Grey and Brown, Gandalf and Radagast, the kings of Gondor, Rohan, and, of course, Dale, Gondor’s Queen and her father, the Lord Elrond, the Lady Galadriel and her husband, the brother Lords Boromir and Faramir, Lady Éowyn, and Gimli, who had claimed the chair directly beside the Prince of Mirkwood’s without any hesitation.

To the consternation of Thranduil, his sour-faced advisor, and Dáin, and the bewilderment of Thorin and Fíli himself, Gimli and Legolas had enjoyed exchanging a steady stream of light banter with one another until the moment that Gandalf had called for the summit to begin. No one else had taken any real notice of their behavior, which had led Fíli to the remarkable conclusion that such was _normal_ for them. No wonder Thranduil looked as if he had bitten into a lemon.

Glóin was going to have an Oliphaunt-sized cow.

“Saruman wants, above all else, Bella Baggins dead.”

And, just like that, all thoughts regarding Gimli and Legolas went up in smoke. Fíli turned wide eyes toward Gandalf, whose features were as grim as the pronouncement that he had just uttered.

“Keeping her far away from him and alive is of paramount importance,” the Lady Galadriel spoke.

“Where is she now?” Fíli asked in near-desperation, “Is she here?”

If she was, then Fíli would be going to her immediately, propriety be damned. Thorin could be as angry as he liked, but Fíli had already anguished over his lost little sister for far too long.

“No,” it was Thranduil who answered, haughty and condescending, “She is safely ensconced within the Greenwood.”

Fíli deflated at that announcement.

“Whether or not that shall change remains to be seen,” Lord Elrond said next, “And is the reason for us gathering here this evening.”

“We have a proposition for you, King Under the Mountain,” Gandalf illuminated gravely, “We ask that you publicly recant Bella’s banishment and allow her to reside within your halls until such a time as Saruman has been defeated and his disgusting children, the Urak-Hai, have been wiped out from this world.”

Thorin didn’t react, but Dáin did.

“How dare you!” the dwarf-lord thundered, “Why should my cousin ever agree to such a thing? That Halfling is nothing more than a traitor and a thief!”

Fíli opened his mouth to give Dáin a piece of his mind, but Aragorn managed to speak first, “The Princess is half of _nothing_. Every being in Arda owes her their lives. She saved us all, including _you_ , Lord Dáin.”

Fíli decided that the King of Gondor was quite alright in his book.

“Princess?” Dáin sputtered, “What’s this fresh nonsense?”

“King Aragorn, the High King over all the kingdoms of men bowed down before her,” Lady Éowyn told Dáin with a fierce glare, “This act declared her royalty more surely than any other could have. She is honored by all men as the Sunrise Princess, the courageous girl who ended Sauron’s night and brought hope and light back to Middle Earth.”

“You will be hard-pressed to find an elf who does not also afford her such admiration,” Queen Arwen chimed in, throwing Dáin a look of cold disdain, “Though that might mean little to you.”

“She is my sister,” Fíli reminded Dáin sharply, “Which, according to our laws, makes her a member of Erebor’s royal family, banished or not. I would have to ritually disown her for this to change, which will not _ever_ happen.”

“No one here has yet to provide a good reason for _Princess Bella’s_ banishment to be retracted,” Dáin finally said through gritted teeth.

“Protect the Princess,” Aragorn turned directly to Thorin, who had been strangely silent, “And you shall gain allies across Arda. Your people nearly starved to death during the long winter last year; such alliances will ensure that you never have to worry about that happening again.”

“The Iron Hills is more than capable of feeding those in Erebor,” Dáin countered.

“And when the rest of King Thorin’s people arrive from the Blue Mountains?” Lord Faramir asked, “Will the Iron Hills be able to support all of them?”

Dáin remained silent.

The answer to Faramir’s query, Fíli knew, was a resounding _no_. It was why the dwarves of Erebor had been barred from seeking refuge in the Iron Hills when Smaug had first descended from the north all those years ago. Time had not changed the fact that the granaries of the Iron Hills were not nearly vast enough to keep Erebor’s people fed.

“I command the Dúnedain Rangers in the west,” Aragorn continued, “They know secret, swift passages to the east and will be able to bring your people back to Erebor on paths far safer than the Great East Road or any others.”

Thorin’s eyes brightened at that, and Fíli knew that he was thinking of Fíli and Kíli’s mother, Thorin’s sister, finally getting to come back to Erebor. To return to the home that she should never have been forced to part from.

Dáin scoffed, “Dwarves have always managed without help from outsiders and we’ll continue too.”

Fíli wanted to pummel Dáin something fierce.

“Moria,” Gandalf all but blurted out, “Take Bella into your kingdom, keep her safe and happy, and you’ll have the assistance of the White Council in reclaiming Moria.”

Every soul save for the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Elrond stared at the Grey Wizard with a combination of shock, horror, and awe.

“I don’t see why the Ringbearer has to go to Erebor at all,” King Thranduil finally said, glancing between the members of the White Council as if assessing their sanity and finding it severely lacking, “She is more than welcome in my kingdom and won’t have to worry about the Mountain’s serious deficit of sunlight and things that grow.”

“If my sister desires plants, then I’ll build her a garden,” Fíli retorted heatedly, “She belongs with her kin, not in a place where darkness is allowed to fester.”

“The Greenwood is healing,” Thranduil’s advisor protested.

“Because of _Bella_ ,” Fíli replied sharply, “Not because of anything that anyone in the Woodland Realm did.”

“You forget that the King has not given his consent,” Dáin scolded, a gleam of unmistakable greed in his eyes that made Fíli ill. No doubt he was imagining how much more could be gotten out of those who worried so terribly over Bél’s safety. Fíli hated him.

“Done,” everyone started at Thorin’s loud declaration, “I consent to your terms. As of this moment, Bella Mira Baggins is welcome to return to Erebor without fear and shall be considered a protected citizen of my kingdom.”

Gandalf, Galadriel, and Elrond were instantly relieved. Far more relieved than three people who had just agreed to fight a blasted Balrog had any right to be. Fíli was starting to agree with Thranduil’s assessment of their sanity, which was irking, because he didn’t want to agree with the tree-shagger about anything if at all possible.

“I’ll deliver her to the Secret Door in three days’ time,” Gandalf announced, “I know that a Presentation will be required, but other than that, you will _not_ parade her around a bunch of people she does not know, at least not until she says that she is ready for such a thing.”

Apparently, now that Gandalf had gotten what he wanted, he was more than happy to revert to his normal bossy self. Fíli would have found it more irritating if he were not currently rejoicing in the knowledge that his little Bél was coming home.

“Now that that’s all settled,” Bard declared, “Let’s have some wine to celebrate.”

The wine was called for and the group gradually rose from their seats to speak to those individuals that they wished to in a bit more privacy. Fíli went over to Gimli as soon as he was able.

“You’re leaving,” Fíli said without preamble, “Aren’t you?”

“I will see Saruman’s head on a pike,” Gimli replied, “I have personal reason to despise him, but I also swore to fight this war and will not return here until it is ended. Look after my Namad-Imad carefully. She needs you and the others more than you can currently imagine, and far more than she will let on. That Mahal-damned Ring broke a part of her that only time and a great deal of love will fix, Fíli.”

Fíli stared at his cousin. Gimli had rarely spoken so much at one time and never with such seriousness before.

“You’ve grown up, Gimli.”

“Aye,” Gimli winked, “But don’t let anyone else catch on.”

“Bél will want for nothing,” Fíli swore, “And certainly not love.”

Gimli grinned and withdrew a crinkled letter from his pocket, “Good. By the way, could you pass this along to Adad? He’ll kill me if I don’t give him some kind of explanation about what happened.”

“He’s very proud of you,” Fíli reassured, taking the note and putting it in the pocket inside his coat.

“I wonder if he’ll stay that way,” Gimli mused, although he then refused to elaborate on his meaning.

The gathering broke up soon after and Fíli raced ahead of his uncle and Dáin, the latter of whom was chiding the former over settling for so paltry a deal as getting back Moria. It was not a conversation Fíli wished to have any part in.

The rest of the Company was waiting for him in the Royal Parlor, anxious eagerness plainly writ upon their faces.

“Well?” Kíli demanded as soon as Fíli entered the spacious room, “What happened? Was Bél there? Did you see her?”

“No,” Fíli replied, and the entire group wilted, “She stayed in Mirkwood for the summit. However, we’ll _all_ be seeing her very soon. Thorin has lifted her banishment and she’ll be staying, with us, in Erebor, until the White Wizard has been vanquished.”

“She’s coming home,” Kíli whispered, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would make the statement untrue, “Truly, Fee?”

“Truly,” Fíli assured his brother, “Gandalf will be escorting her here in three days’ time.

“Thorin agreed to this?” Dwalin asked in amazement.

“Eventually,” Fíli admitted, “After the White Council pledged their services in helping Thorin reclaim Moria, as soon as Saruman has been killed.”

“They vowed to face the Balrog? That’s madness!” Nori exclaimed.

“Quite,” Balin agreed, “For the White Council to be so terribly desperate as to make such a dangerous bargain… the threat to Bella’s life must be grave indeed. Far greater than any of us calculated, at least.”

But even this unsettling news could not keep the band of dwarrows somber for very long.

“We have so many preparations to make,” Ori cried, “I made a list of books that I thought she’d like as I catalogued them. I need to go find them all.”

“I need to get my cooks acquainted with her favorite recipes,” Bombur said, “So they can prepare them for her.”

“We need to finish furnishing her rooms,” Kíli added.

“And we need to put the finishing touches on the weapons,” Glóin chimed in.

“She’ll almost certainly need new clothes made for her. Mahal only knows what those elves have provided for her,” Dori fretted, “Certainly nothing warm enough to withstand the winter. I do hope that the merchants in Dale and Esgaroth still have some of those lovely muslins and fine silks and velvets in their inventory.

‘ _The Loom,_ ’ Bifur signed.

“Aye,” Bofur nodded, “We’ll need to get that completed.”

“We need to locate a suitable place for a garden,” Fíli informed them, “Preferably a large one that gets lots of sunshine.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Glóin slapped Fíli on the back.

“Bella takes comfort from growing things,” Óin agreed, “Maybe a place big enough for a few small trees?”

“There are several spots where we could construct a garden,” Balin stroked his long, white beard thoughtfully, “But we’ll need Thorin’s permission before we can move forward with any alterations.”

Kíli scowled at that.

“Now, now, laddie,” Balin reminded patiently, “No matter our quarrel with him, he is still our King and this is his Mountain. We can do nothing without his consent. Besides, he did give us leave to work on Bella’s suite, did he not?”

“Only cause Fee and I threatened to abdicate,” Kíli replied.

“He’ll give us permission,” Fíli announced quickly, to remove the scowl that had no place being on his little brother’s face, “If only to spite Thranduil. We also need to set up a rotation.”

“A rotation?” Nori questioned, “For what?”

“For our sister. At least one of us needs to be with her at all times. I spoke to Gimli,” and that got everyone’s complete attention, “He was at the summit but he won’t be coming to the Mountain yet; he’s got a bone to pick with Saruman and he’s sworn to help defeat the disgraced wizard. Anyway, he implied that Bella, that she’s not as alright as most everyone would like to believe she is, and that she is in desperate need of us.”

“She carried that wretched Ring for months and months,” Ori said quietly, “And was all by herself toward the end.”

“We’ll be there for her,” Dwalin declared, “Whether she thinks that she needs us or not. She’ll never be alone like that again.”

************************************************************************

Bella was trembling with fury and she could care less about who saw it.

“So basically,” she summed up, glaring at Gandalf, “You lot decided to sneak off to a secret meeting, flying astride the Giant Eagles of Manwë Súlimo no less, to decide _my_ future and didn’t see fit to tell me about it until right now.”

“If we had told you that we were going to go meet with Thorin,” Gandalf explained, “Then you would have tried to forbid us from doing so and, when that failed, would have just snuck out of Mirkwood on your own. No matter how foolish it would have been.”

“ _Greenwood_ ,” Thranduil stressed in protest.

Gandalf ignored him, “Thorin has recanted your banishment and has agreed to allow you to live in Erebor for the time being.”

“And what, in the Green Lady’s name, did you have to promise to get him to do such a thing?” Bella challenged at once.

“Bella-”

“Don’t you ‘ _Bella_ ’ me, Gandalf!” Bella shouted, her ire finally truly surfacing, “Did it never occur to you that maybe I don’t want to be within a hundred miles of the dwarf that tried to kill me over a stupid, _Valar-damned_ rock?”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here,” Thranduil offered, though his speech was, once again, disregarded by the Maiar of the Grey persuasion.

“I did think of it, in fact,” Gandalf confessed, “But I was also reasonably sure that you would be willing to overlook Thorin’s actions, as atrocious as they were, for the chance to be with your brothers again.”

Bella did miss her brothers. She missed Balin’s steady wisdom and Dwalin’s gruff but true affection. She missed the jokes Bofur told that made her laugh and blush simultaneously. She missed Bombur’s jolly smiles as they traded recipes and witnessing Bifur’s kindness to even the smallest creatures. She missed talking with Óin about healing herbs and plants. She missed how Glóin could go on for hours about those he cared about. She missed Dori’s fussiness and Ori’s tales. She missed Nori teaching her how to be a trickster, like he was. She missed Fíli and Kíli’s exuberance and zeal for life. She missed Fíli teaching her how to properly fight with Sting and Kíli teaching her how to shoot with his bow; how they’d all been amazed and proud at how well she could throw knives and had decided to instruct her in how to fight with them. But…

“You have no proof that they want anything at all to do with me!” Bella yelled, voicing her fears, before succumbing to tears.

“They do,” Gimli spoke up, moving to Bella’s side, “Fíli was at the summit. He was so happy when he learned that he might see you again.”

“He promised to build you a garden,” Thranduil interjected, “You should certainly hold him to that.”

“He was deeply saddened when he was told that you were not already in Dale,” Arwen offered, “If you had been, he would have abandoned the summit gladly just to see you, Mellon.”

Bella wanted terribly to believe them. To believe that her dear brothers and darling sister missed her and wanted her with them again.

“You’re expected in Erebor in three days,” Gandalf told her, “So you have until tomorrow afternoon to make a decision. If you truly do not wish to go to the Mountain, then we shall not make you, my dear Bella, but I do honestly believe that you’ll safest and happiest there.”

“I’m beyond angry with you,” Bella stated plainly, “You had no right to go behind my back as you did. I’m not a child that needs to be coddled; I’m an adult who is quite capable of taking care of herself. Right now though, I’m exhausted and I want to go to bed. I’ll speak to you further about all of this in the morning.”

And Bella marched off to her room, without wishing any of them a ‘good night’. The Baggins in her rebelled against such a blatant lack of manners, but her Took side rejoiced in the vindication she felt at the act.

The absolute nerve of her friends!

How _dare_ they treat her as if she were a defenseless fauntling. She was thirty-eight years old, (almost anyway). How many times did she have to prove that she could take care of herself, thank you very much? It was annoying, insulting, exasperating, positively vexing and… Bella knew full well that they only behaved in such a way because they cared so much for her. This didn’t excuse their actions in any way, not in the least bit, but it did _explain_ them.

Bella huffed as she climbed into the two-large and too-soft bed that Thranduil had provided for her stay in his kingdom. As irritating and overprotective as her friends could be, she still preferred having them over the alternative. Spending the rest of her life, alone, in Bag End, with only her nosy and judgmental relatives to keep her company.

She had been sure this would be her fate, once upon a time, sure that she would never truly care for, or be cared by, anybody ever again. Then thirteen dwarrows invaded her respectable life without warning and everything changed all at once for Bella Mira Baggins.

Fíli and Kíli had accepted her from the start, roping her into their antics and games and eagerly trading stories with her. They had eagerly, and to the consternation of their uncle, named her their ‘ _Namad_ ’, their sister, a day after the Company had departed from Rivendell. Because they had acted first, they would always be her eldest brothers, never mind that they were only actually older than Ori.

To solidify this bond between them, they had presented Bella with a set of twin silver bracelets, each set with a single tiny amethyst, which had protective runes painstakingly engraved into the thin bands. The bracelets had been surprisingly heavy for their size, although not hardly enough so to be a burden to her. Instead, the weight had been a comfort, a reminder that she was loved, that she carried with her for the rest of the Quest.

She’s carried the bracelets all the way to Mount Doom too, and wore them even now. The knowledge that her brothers would surely perish should she fail in her mission to destroy the Ring had been enough to spur her on through the dark and to emerge the victor.

In the weeks that followed Fíli and Kíli’s claiming of her as their kin, the others had come to care deeply for her as well, even Thorin, after Bella had saved the prickly dwarf’s life from Azog. By the time that the Company had reached Laketown, Bella had gained ten more brothers and a sister.

Tauriel had been as much of a surprise as anything else on the Quest. Bella had first seen Thranduil’s niece crouched outside of Kíli’s cell, whispering to the dwarrow through the bars about starlight and moonlight and every other kind of celestial glow. Bella hadn’t believed in love at first sight until then, but she could not afterwards deny that Kíli and Tauriel had fallen hard and fast for each other in Mirkwood.

Tauriel had eventually helped Bella free her dwarves from Thranduil’s prisons and then, to Thorin’s dismay, had joined the Company as Kíli’s intended. Once they had made it inside of Erebor, via the Secret Door, and were face to face with Smaug, Tauriel had provided Kíli with the black-tipped arrow that the other had sent flying straight into the dragon’s heart, killing the monster in seconds.

Thranduil had shown up at Erebor’s gates a few days later, with two armies, one comprised of his elves and the second made up of men from Esgaroth, at his back, and, among other things, banished Tauriel for her actions. He had lifted the banishment only days later, after the Battle of the Five Armies had been won, but Tauriel had so far refused to leave Bard’s home in Dale, no matter what her uncle plied her with.

Bella didn’t know whether or not Tauriel was allowed inside Erebor, although she suspected the answer was ‘ _no_ ’, which made Bella angry on her sister’s behalf.

If Bella agreed to go to Erebor, would she get to visit Tauriel? Surely Kíli visited her as often as he possibly could, but would Bella, someone Thorin considered a traitor, be allowed to come and go as she pleased? Or would she be treated as a prisoner, albeit one that Thorin had to take good care of lest he bring the wrath of the White Council down on his head?

Why had Thorin lifted her banishment at all? Could she live in a place where nearly everyone, assuming that Gimli was not mistaken and her brothers really did want her back, was sure to hate and resent her? Could she face the dwarven-king that she still loved, day after day, knowing that he had cast her utterly from his heart?

These questions kept her awake for a long time and when she finally did find sleep, it did not bring her any sort of peace.

_Bella was running through stone halls that seemed to stretch before her for forever and a day. She twisted around corner after corner until she finally reached a heavy set of doors adorned with a sprawling golden dragon, inlaid seamlessly into the dark oak and sporting a large ruby for an eye. She shoved them open._

_Thorin was on his knees, held there by a pair of dwarves with flawlessly curled black beards, the likes of which Bella had never seen before, while a third dwarrow with a golden belt covered in strange runes held Orcrist to Thorin’s exposed throat. The King was as defiant as ever and majestic even as he stared death in the face._

_Bella was suddenly grabbed from behind and prevented from lunging at Thorin’s captors._

_“Bella!” Thorin shouted and now, now his bravery faltered and fear showed. Fear not for himself, but for **her**._

_In the end, it didn’t matter._

_Orcrist cleaved Thorin’s head from his shoulders, blood splattering everywhere._

_And Bella screamed._

“Bella!”

Bella jerked awake and found herself in Arwen’s arms, “They’re going to kill him!”

“Kill who?” Galadriel asked from beside Bella’s bed.

No one else was in Bella’s chamber, “Was I screaming?”

“Only in your mind,” Galadriel assured, “Arwen and I were the only ones close enough to notice your distress.”

“Who’s getting killed, Bella?” Arwen asked gently, after Bella had nodded at Galadriel and then remained silent.

“Thorin,” Bella whispered, “A group of dwarves killed him and I couldn’t stop them.”

“Did you see their faces?” Galadriel inquired.

“No,” Bella admitted, “Their faces were blurry but they had curled black beards.”

Galadriel looked surprised, “Blacklocks.”

“What?”

“Blacklocks are the only dwarven clan to curl their hair,” Arwen revealed, “With heated rocks. But, most of them live far to the east in Rhûn, in the mountain range near the Inland Sea of Helcar. Their former king had little to do with Erebor when Thrór ruled, I think it unlikely that their new king shall act differently. The Blacklocks do not enjoy interacting with any of the other dwarven clans.”

“Why would I dream of them?” Bella asked.

“Sometimes dreams are more than dreams,” Galadriel said with a tenderness that helped soften the blow of her words, “It is possible that you saw something that has yet to come to pass.”

“The future,” Bella blanched, “Thorin _is_ going to be killed.”

“Not for certain,” Galadriel soothed, “The future can be altered by even the smallest thing. And there is still the possibility that you _were_ merely dreaming, dear one. You’ve had many bad dreams as of late.”

Bella acknowledged that this was true and eventually managed to convince Gondor’s Queen and her Lady Grandmother that she was well enough to go back to sleep. But Bella stayed awake until the dawn came, warring with herself for several hours before finally accepting that her decision had been made the moment she realized that Thorin could be in danger.

She didn’t know if her dream was a portent of things to come or not, but vision of the future or nightmare, it had made an irrevocable impact on her. She would be going to Erebor.

************************************************************************

Fíli paused for only a few moments before knocking on the door to his uncle’s study.

“Enter,” Thorin called, and Fíli did so quickly, finding the other penning a missive of some kind at his desk.

It took a minute for Thorin to finish and look up at him.

“Fíli,” Thorin spoke with surprise, which was understandable given that Fíli had rarely spoken to him in private since Bella had been cast out over the blasted Arkenstone, and only after Thorin had instructed Fíli to lock the gem up in the vaults for reasons that the King refused to share. This was more than Kíli acknowledged their uncle, at least, for Fíli’s younger brother had not deigned to speak a word to Thorin since the day he realized that their sister had vanished without a trace and that Tauriel had to remain in Dale.

“Your Majesty,” Fíli greeted, prompting a slight wince from Thorin. Fíli’s use of the honorific was not an accolade of any kind, and Thorin knew it.

“What do you need, Fíli?” Thorin asked with a sigh.

“Your permission to make alterations to one of the balconies on the western side of the Mountain,” Fíli replied.

Thorin gave him a bewildered look, “What in Mahal’s name for?”

“A garden.”

“For Bella,” Thorin realized, “You wish to build a garden for Bella.”

“I told Thranduil that I would with over a dozen witnesses.”

“So you did,” Thorin recognized, “But I’m very sure that you would have come to me with this request regardless.”

Fíli didn’t bother to argue the point. Thorin’s assumption was not incorrect and to claim otherwise would have been a falsehood. He’d lived with his uncle long enough to know that lying would get him absolutely nowhere so he settled for merely raising an eyebrow.

“Make sure that you select a balcony on one of the highest levels,” Thorin told him, “We’ll have far less to worry about when it comes to assassins that way. And encase the entire place in a steel net before you let her into it. You’ll have time enough to do this; she will not be able to plant anything until spring comes.”

Those words were enough to cause Fíli to forget himself for a moment, “Thank you, Uncle!”

“Her rooms are ready, I suppose?” Thorin asked.

“Nearly,” Fíli replied, “Dori decided during the luncheon hour that the suite needs more throw pillows, so he rushed off to Dale an hour ago to find some and dragged Balin along with him.”

“Have you considered assigning her bodyguards?”

“Dwalin has two picked out for her,” Fíli snorted, “But getting her to agree to let them follow her around is going to be a feat and a half. If I try ordering her to, she’ll be slipping away from them every chance that she gets.”

“She cannot be left unattended,” Thorin said firmly, “Not while so many of Dáin’s men remain in this kingdom. It wouldn’t be safe for her.”

“She won’t be,” Fíli informed him, “The others and I have made certain of it. One of us will always be with her. It won’t interfere with any of our duties, I assure you.”

“Fine,” Thorin responded, “As long as she’s not alone.”

A month ago, a week ago even, this would have been the point where Fíli eagerly took his leave, but today he hesitated, long enough for Thorin to notice.

“What is it?” his uncle questioned.

“Trying to reclaim Moria,” Fíli eventually said, “It is a folly, Uncle.”

“Many said the same about reclaiming Erebor,” Thorin retorted, “And yet here we are.”

“Smaug was a creature of flesh and blood,” Fíli argued, “The Balrog is a demon, one that the White Council has little chance of defeating, for all their power.”

“I know,” Thorin revealed, to Fíli’s amazement, “Which is why I have no intention of insisting that they uphold that particular part of the bargain. There is no great chance that they shall survive the war with Saruman intact, in any case.”

“Then, why…” Fíli trailed off, unsure of whether he actually wanted to hear the answer to the question that he had been about to pose.

Thorin gave him an answer anyway, “I have my reasons for allowing her to return to the Mountain, Fíli. You may rest assured that they are not malicious nor do I have any intentions of seeing harm come to her.”

The reply was not wholly acceptable, but Fíli knew better than to press for any more. Instead, he changed the topic.

“Tauriel-”

“No,” was Thorin’s immediate reply.

“Bella will insist upon seeing her,” Fíli attempted.

“Then your sister can visit the elf in Dale,” Thorin asserted, “But Tauriel shall not be entering this kingdom until Dáin and his men have departed. We’ve spoken about this, Fíli.”

“Kíli is growing impatient,” Fíli cautioned, “He does not see why the one he loves, his intended, must be kept out of Erebor after everything she has done to aid us. She provided the arrow that my brother used to fell Smaug and stood with us even against her own uncle. What will you do when Kee becomes fed up with waiting and elopes with her as he’s threatened to do on several occasions?”

“My grandfather would have banished him for even looking twice at an elf,” Thorin said baldly.

Fíli was instantly incensed, “Banish my brother and you’ll be needing to find yourself another heir, _Your Majesty_.”

“Fíli,” Thorin’s tone was much gentler than Fíli had heard from him in a long time, “I am not my grandfather. I’d sooner welcome another dragon into Erebor than willingly lose Kíli, lose _either_ of you. But you both must understand that there are many dwarves currently in Erebor who would react with violence if they were to realize that your brother seriously intends to wed Tauriel. Both of their lives would be at great risk, and I will _not_ abide by that. I bear no ill will toward your brother’s One and, once your mother and enough of our people have settled in the Mountain, I will welcome her with open arms into Erebor.”

A great tension drained from Fíli, “You could have said this months ago.”

“Neither you nor your brother were in the mood to listen then,” Thorin replied wryly.

Fíli had to acknowledge that this was, in fact, true, “You’ll bless their marriage?”

“I’ll marry them myself,” Thorin confirmed.

************************************************************************

Erebor was as majestic as ever and filled Bella with a sense of dread. There had been a time when the Mountain had been a beacon of hope, a symbol of the promises her brothers and Thorin had made her. Now, the sight of it was a painful, agonizing reminder of the King Under the Mountain’s final words to her all those months ago.

_“Take her then,” Thorin had roared, clutching the braid he’d cut from her hair, with the mithril and gold bead courting bead still dangling from it’s end, in his large fist, the same that had struck her only minutes before, “And know that no love of mine goes with her! She is henceforth banished from my sight and kingdom!”_

The bruise on Bella’s face had healed. The bruise on her heart had not, remaining a constant source of grief.

Bella could not quite quell the quivering of her hands as Gandalf drove the small cart that they had borrowed from Thranduil toward the once secret door into the Mountain. The path had been smoothed out and made accessible by horse and cart which was nice, because Bella wasn’t sure how else she could have gotten the three chests full of money, that Aragorn had insisted she take, up to the door.

They’d barely come to a stop before Bella was plucked from her seat and pulled into a tight embrace that engulfed her completely. It took the work of only a moment to comprehend who was holding her and then Bella was hugging Fíli back as tightly as she could, “Fee.”

“Idmi ramim, Namad,” Fíli whispered against her hair, “Welcome home.”

Kíli claimed her next, spinning her around with a laugh, “Bél!”

Bofur, too, lifted her into the air, although there was no spinning, when he greeted her.

Nori managed to sneak in a quick kiss to her cheek before Bella was enveloped in bone-crunching hugs by Óin and Glóin, in short order.

Dwalin’s greeting was a gentle knock of his forehead against hers, mindful of her softer skull.

“You have been sorely missed, lass,” Balin’s hug was grandfatherly and his voice was full of pride.

Bifur greeted her with a long string of Khuzdûl that, for the most, Bella couldn’t understand, but the sentiment behind the words became quite clear when he held her close.

Bombur carried the scents of cinnamon, and pumpkin, and sweet apples with him and Ori’s fingers were stained with inks, Bella noticed when they each squeezed her tight, telltale signs of what occupied the time of her two most gentle brothers’ days.

Dori took his turn hugging her and then immediately began fretting over her, “Oh, you look exhausted, and half-starved! What has Tharkûn done to you? We need to get you inside, where it’s warm, so that you can rest and something hot to eat and drink.”

Bella couldn’t answer right then, because a part of her was still coming to terms with the fact that her brothers _had_ missed her, so Gandalf spoke for her, “She is too thin, isn’t she? Perhaps being in the company of her brothers shall be enough to finally persuade her that she should be consuming more than a single meal each day.”

If Bella had been holding any sort of projectile, she would have sent it hurdling toward the meddlesome wizard’s head with as much force as she could muster.

Gandalf’s words had an instantaneous effect.

“Yer supposed to have seven!” Óin protested, and then the rest of her brothers, save one, began to chide her as well.

Fíli was the only one who did not immediately scold her and, when Bella glanced over at him, she knew that it was because he had managed to perceive something that none of the others had.

“Enough,” he spoke with authority, after a long moment of considering Bella’s person, “The sooner we get our sister inside, the sooner she can eat. Remonstrations are of little use right now.”

Gandalf cleared his throat, “This is where I bid you farewell, my dear Bella. Do try not to go running off on any more dangerous quests, at least not until I get back.”

Bella was still angry with him, but she was suddenly struck by the notion that there was every possibility Gandalf might _not_ come back and that was just unacceptable, “Gandalf, if you let that stupid, pompous, ridiculous excuse for a Maiar kill you, I will _never_ forgive you.”

Gandalf nodded at her with solemnity, which was belayed by the twinkling of mirth in his eyes, and then he was gone.


	2. Part the Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, :)

**_Chapter Two_ **

Her brothers kept Bella firmly ensconced in the center of their group as they made their way through the halls of Erebor. They passed numerous other dwarves on their walk, but although Bella heard them, she did not see them, nor did they catch even a peek of her, as surrounded as she was by the Company. She had not even been glimpsed by the pair of dwarves that Fíli had ordered to carry her chests to her room. In other circumstances, this would have bothered her, but today she was grateful as she did not particularly wish to be peered at by those she did not know as if she were some sort of carnival attraction.

By ascending several steep flights of stairs, the group quickly reached halls that were far less populated and then finally stopped near the end of these. Bella thought that she must be very deep within the Mountain at this point. Her brothers parted to reveal a set of doors that made Bella gape.

“Um…”

“Your rooms, Namad,” Fíli explained with a wide grin.

The doors were heavily arched and every single bit of their surface was covered in emeralds. Big emeralds and little emeralds, set across the doors in a gorgeous swirling pattern. Even the doorknobs were two large, round emeralds that sparkled in the light coming from all the torches lining the hallway.

“It looks like…”

Bag End. The doors had been crafted to resemble Bag End’s unique, at least in Hobbiton, green door, but with a dwarven flair. A perfect mesh of two distinct cultures that made Bella’s heart warm.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You haven’t even seen the inside,” Kíli replied cheerfully.

Bella bit her lip, “Are you sure that Thorin-”

“Uncle gave us leave to decorate your suite however we saw fit,” Fíli answered, before twisting the doorknobs and pushing, swinging the gem-laden doors wide open for her.

Bella was greeted by what was obviously a sitting room, one large enough to fit the whole Company, and a few others besides, quite comfortably. It was bedecked in a color scheme of purples and creams. The floor, walls, and furniture were made of light-toned oak and there was a great fireplace of ivory-hued stone and amethysts against one wall. Above it hung what was clearly meant to be a shield, (its reddish-gold tint was perplexing for a moment, until Bella realized that it had been crafted out of one of Smaug’s gigantic scales), and to either side of this were small paintings, one depicting the Shire and the other portraying Erebor. More amethysts were embedded into the ceiling in clusters meant to invoke flowers and the tea set sitting upon a low table, amidst a cluster of plush chairs, was also encrusted with the gems.

Both Hobbitish and Dwarven. Bella was beginning to sense a theme here.

“Oh, it’s so lovely,” Bella praised after taking it all in, “How on earth did you manage to get all of this done in just three days?”

“We’ve been working on it since right after the Battle, Bél,” Fíli revealed, “We… at first we thought that you had died during it, because no one could find you, not even Gandalf at first, and then when the Wizard disappeared on us too… none of us ever dreamed that you were headed to Mordor.”

Bella stared at him in horror, “You thought… but… Dáin didn’t _tell_ you?”

Every single one of Bella’s brothers turned to her in confusion.

“I… I spoke to Dáin when I came to the encampment to check on all of you. He sent me away… he said that you didn’t want to see me,” Bella told them, “So I went back to Dale and… well, I got angry and threw the Ring into a nearby fire. It was the only gold around and I wanted… well, the wretched thing began to glow so I took it back out. Once I read the inscription, I knew what it was and I knew that I had to destroy it. I left for Caras Galadhon, in Lothlórien, that very hour.”

Kíli swore viciously in Khuzdûl, and then spoke in Westron, “I’m going to eviscerate that bastard!”

“He didn’t say a word to us, lassie,” Dwalin said, “And we weren’t angry with you, we were _never_ angry.”

Tears welled up in Bella’s eyes, “When did you find out that I wasn’t dead?”

“The day that word reached the Mountain that Mount Doom had erupted due to the destruction of Sauron’s Ring,” Balin answered, “We were overjoyed at the news, though heartsick at the thought of you facing such peril without us by your side, and very, very proud.”

Bella’s smile was watery, “I missed you all so much, every minute. I left my heart here when I went South.”

“We’re all together now,” Fíli swore, “And this family is never going to be torn asunder again, Namad.”

“Aye!” the rest of them chorused resolutely.

Bella wanted so badly to believe them.

“Let’s finish showing Bella around,” Bofur said after a moment, “We’ve only scratched the surface, so to speak.”

There were two doorways on the right wall, one door was covered in a dwarven pattern of red and brown jasper and the second had copper swirls running through the wood. It was through the latter, the one closer to her suite’s entrance, that Bella was led first, right into a large kitchen.

White marble floors and countertops were expertly paired with cabinets and cupboards and drawers of Linden wood. Shining copper cookware hung from strong dwarfish hooks in the ceiling. The cabinets held heavy silver dishes and the drawers contained ornate silverware.

“The pantry’s not stocked yet, nor the cold box,” Bombur said, “Because I figured you’d prefer to do that yourself, but I did stock the tea cabinet with all your favorite blends, sugar, and some of Beorn’s honey.”

“Thank you, Bombur.”

Through the other door was a study, which was also clearly meant to double as a personal library, as all of the walls were, in fact, bookshelves. The flooring in here was carpet, the first Bella had seen in the Mountain, and was dark gold in color.

Carved into the thick, dark-oaken bookshelves were all manner of forest creatures. From bears to eagles to bunnies, with the occasional fairy or two thrown around, all had tiny jade eyes. The shelves were mostly empty, although about three dozen books lay waiting for her, courtesy of Ori no doubt, on her desk, which had engraved wildflowers around the edges and down the legs.

“Look here,” Kíli waved her over to one of the bookcases that housed a lone tome upon its shelves. Kíli reached up and gave the book a firm yank. To Bella’s amazement, the bookcase swung open, revealing a dimly lit passage.

“It leads to the study that Kee and I share,” Fíli explained, “In case you ever need us and don’t want to deal with the guards. Everyone else has suites in the Royal Wing too, so we’ll all always be near.”

Bella was more relived than she cared to admit.

Bella was next led through a door shrouded in pink and orange gems that she had no name for, although she could tell that they had been arranged to look like lilies.

Her bedroom was shades of Durin blue matched with ebony furniture. The carpet was silver and thicker than that in her study. There were no gemstones in here; the walls were covered in silver stamped pictures of trees, oaks and maples, a shimmering forest. There was a second fireplace, of black stone mixed with silver. The chests given to her by Aragorn were already beside the canopy bed, so Bella set her pack down next to them.

Glóin walked over to the headboard, which also had three silver trees set upon it, and pressed in on the largest one. There was a click and the headboard lifted up to reveal a small crossbow and a dozen bolts.

“Just in case,” he said.

In the corner of her sleeping chamber, was an exquisitely crafted loom of Sugar Maple wood. It was large and looked heavy and had a curved bench attached to it for Bella to sit on, a difference from the loom she had owned in the Shire.

“Bif created the base,” Bofur said as Bella admired it, “And I did the rest.”

“It’s wonderful. I haven’t been able to weave in so long,” Bella replied, “Thank you very much.”

“Anything for you, Bells,” Bofur winked.

Bifur signed a quick, ‘ _You’re welcome, sister_ ’, in Iglishmêk.

The connecting bathroom sported a floor of black granite, with veins of gold running through it, which had been so heavily polished that it was almost like a mirror. The actual mirror ran the length of one entire wall and was embellished with braided gold and blood-red rubies. The rest of furnishings, including the in-ground, oversized bathtub, were crafted of gold and encrusted with more rubies. There was an armoire with sides of clear crystal that held a wide variety of soaps, perfumes, and bathing oils. The towels were found in the cabinets under the sink and had been woven from spider-silk. They were the softest towels that Bella had ever felt.

Also accessed from the bedroom was a large, empty walk-in closet. Bella hung up her traveling cloak, a gift from the Lady Galadriel, carefully inside it.

“This is all so absolutely perfect,” Bella told her brothers a minute later, “And far more than I deserve.”

“Nonsense, you deserve the best of the best and that is what you shall receive. Let me take your measurements, my dear,” Dori pulled a strip of blue leather, marked with black thread every half-inch, out of his pocket, “You’ll be needing a full wardrobe and I doubt that you’ve managed to stuff one of those into your little pack.”

“No,” Bella admitted, “There has been no time to acquire one. I’ve been on the move since the day following Aragorn’s coronation. I didn’t know where I was going to end up, because no one bothered to tell me, but I figured that I would commission one once I got wherever I was going.”

“There’s no need for that,” Dori replied, “I’ll take care of it right. The few tailors that have arrived have very little work to occupy them right now, so this order should be complete in only a couple of days.”

“I have money, Dori,” Bella said, “I can-”

“As your brother it is my right to see that you’re taken care of,” Dori interrupted firmly, but not unkindly, “Allow me to do this, sister.”

“I’m going to get lots of dresses, aren’t I?”

“For the formal dinners four times a week in the Great Dining Hall, yes, and you’ll need a handful of gowns for balls and festivals and the like as well,” Dori agreed, “But for everyday, you are more than welcome to wear trousers.”

“It’ll likely cause a bit of a scandal amongst the more traditional,” Balin spoke up, “But you saved all of Arda, so I do believe that you are more than entitled to cause a few scandals.”

“Those old farts could use some shaking up anyway,” Nori added with a grin.

“Language, brother,” Dori chided.

“You’re wearing boots,” Ori pointed out hesitantly, as if unsure whether or not he should bring the topic up, “I thought that you hated shoes.”

“I broke my ankle in Mordor,” Bella explained, lifting her right leg slightly, “It’s mostly healed now, but I still have to rewrap it every morning and the boots help keep the bandage in place all day. It was rather ridiculous really; I managed to get all the way through Mordor and destroyed the Ring without injury and then I slipped on a patch of loose gravel while running back down the slopes of Mount Doom.”

“I’ll commission some nicer boots for you,” Dori decided, eyeing Bella’s man-made shoes with the disdain of someone who could craft something far better in his sleep.

“If anyone has anything negative to say to you,” Fíli insisted then, “You come to me immediately, Namad. I won’t have people speaking ill of you in this kingdom.”

Bella nodded her head in agreement. She knew better than to argue about this. If her brothers had any reason to believe that Bella wouldn’t come to them if she had been insulted or threatened, they’d just knot bells in her hair so that they could follow her around everywhere.

“You haven’t put much weight back on, Bella,” Dori said in disapproval as he took her waist measurements, “You’re as thin as you were in Laketown.”

“The Ring… it did a lot of damage,” Bella admitted, “I was worse than this a month ago. I can’t… feel hunger anymore. The Lord Elrond said that this side effect of carrying the Ring would eventually fade away, but I usually forget to eat unless I’m reminded. It drove Gandalf up a wall, as you can probably imagine.”

“We’ll remind you,” Kíli responded with a seriousness she rarely saw from him, “Dinners are taken in the Great Dining Hall or in the dining room here in the Royal Wing, either way we always eat together for dinner and breakfast too. You’ll never be alone for lunches, which we usually take wherever we wish to. We could even go on picnics if you like, once spring returns.”

“I’d like that,” Bella said softly.

“I’ll set up a diet plan,” Bombur declared, not a trace of his usual shyness present, “You’ll need to monitor your food intake for a while so that you don’t make yourself sick. I’ll have my cooks add lots of vegetables to the menus. I’ll go make you some soup for lunch, something hearty, and brew some of that raspberry tea you love so much.”

“Do you have a dress with you?” Balin asked as Bombur marched off, “We won’t have a formal dinner until Monday, so the tailors will have time enough to make you garb for it, but you’ll need one for after lunch.”

“Why?” Bella wondered curiously.

“The presentation, lass,” Balin revealed, “You have to announce yourself to the King in the Throne Room during today’s Court Session.”

Bella was sorry that she asked.

“Oh,” she answered weakly, “Right, I probably should have expected that.”

“I’ll be with you the entire time,” Fíli reassured immediately, “We’ll walk together and I’ll present you to Thorin, as my sister who has come to stay in Erebor. All you have to do is smile and say, ‘Thank you, Your Majesty’, when he welcomes you. After that we can come back here and can spend the rest of the day doing whatever you like.”

Bella nodded, “I brought a dress with me from Gondor, but I don’t think that wearing it to be presented to Thorin is a good idea.”

“Why?” Glóin wanted to know.

“I’ll show you,” Bella went over to her pack and retrieved the dress she spoke of from her pack. She carried it back to them and held it up so that they could all see it.

“Oh,” Óin said, “Yeah, definitely don’t try wearing _that_.”

“It’s… um… very elfish,” Bofur offered.

“It was made by elves,” Bella illuminated for them, “For Aragorn’s coronation at Arwen’s request.”

It was a thing of beauty, the gown, all sparkly and a rich silver-grey in color. But Bella could hardly wear it before the King Under the Mountain. Thorin would take one look at the clearly elven dress and throw her back out of Erebor.

“If Thranduil ever comes to visit,” Balin said wryly, “Then wearing this dress would be a good idea, but until that day comes, I suggest keeping it in your closet, lass.”

“You have your dress that was made in Laketown,” Bofur proposed, “You never got the chance to wear it and it’s certainly appropriate to wear for a presentation. It’s in the ebony chest by the foot of your bed.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Bella beamed at him, “I’ll do that.”

This solution seemed to make the others very pleased as well. Bella did not have the time to ponder too much on why before Kíli asked, “So, what did you do to make Thranduil like you so much? Because, as far as anybody else knows, he hates pretty much everyone who’s not an elf and even then it’s a toss-up.”

Bella wrinkled her nose, “It’s all Aragorn’s fault. He just had to pull that stunt at his coronation, and then Elrond and Galadriel just had to feed into his insanity by coming up with the title, Aurrîs, which roughly translated means, the Sunrise Princess. Thranduil, in all his wisdom, decided that he couldn’t be outdone by a Lord, a Lady, and a King of Men, and declared himself my Amath, my Shield.”

Balin whistled lowly, “That is remarkable, indeed. An Elf does not declare such often, and to my knowledge, Thranduil never has before.”

“It rendered even Gandalf speechless for a few minutes,” Bella shrugged, “I suppose that Thranduil decided that hating me, when he had to protect me at all costs due to his oath, wasn’t worth the effort. He had his pet elk follow me around the entire time I was in his kingdom, you know, it got a bit creepy toward the end.”

Bombur returned soon after, with a large tureen of thick venison and mushroom soup. Behind him was a pair of similar looking dwarrowdams with light brown hair and whiskers braided intricately. One carried a large tea service; the other was bearing a platter of cheese scones.

The dwarrowdams, introduced as Arnura and Arníra, nodded respectfully at the Company and Bella before leaving.

“They’re members of my Guard,” Dwalin explained to Bella, as they dined in her sitting room, using her new dishes, “Two of my best and most trusted. They’re tasked with guarding the Royal Wing.”

“Bella,” Fíli said, “Until the caravans from the Blue Mountains begin arriving, wandering alone in the Mountain could be very dangerous. Although we don’t intend to _ever_ leave you on your own, and have taken steps to ensure that we don’t have to, if there’s ever an emergency, go to Arnura and Arníra, just so that you’re not alone.”

Bella’s first instinct was to argue, but then she noticed how tense Fíli was. Was the situation in the Mountain really that dire? Were her brothers in danger? Was Thorin?

Remnants of the nightmare that spurred her into coming back to the Mountain swirled up in her mind’s eye. Bella suppressed them ruthlessly, conceding, “Alright.”

Her brothers looked reasonably surprised and relieved by her swift yield to Fee’s request.

“But if you think that I’m going to hide away in here while you all are off doing something dangerous then you’ve got another thing coming. I’ll find the guards and then I’m coming after you.”

They looked significantly less relieved, but also distinctly unsurprised.

Lunch came to an end and Glóin urged, “We’ll take care of the washin’ up. You go take a nice soak; you’ve got about an hour before the presentations start today.”

Bella scampered off to her bathroom to do just that. With great determination, she scrubbed off every trace of the road, getting as clean as she could possibly be. She did not have to worry about the water becoming murky, for fresh water was constantly being pumped through from one of the many hot springs, diverted from its natural course through the Mountain via dwarven plumbing, and the dirtied water was flushed out continuously. Not even the elves had such ingenious systems.

After drying off with one of her divine new towels, Bella immediately put her bracelets back on and rewrapped her ankle. She carefully brushed out her strawberry-blonde curls and then made her way into her beautiful new bedroom.

She opened the ebony chest by her bed and was not surprised to find not only the dress but also all of the other gifts from her brothers that marked her as their sister. The layered purple satin dress, that came all the way down to floor, had sleeves that stopped just before her elbow, and was embroidered with silver, had been made for her by Dori, Nori, and Ori. The razor-sharp dagger, with its silver hilt and matching sheath, was from Balin and Dwalin. From Óin and Glóin, Bella had received the shiny belt made up of silver dwarven knots. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had presented her with a thin silver rope necklace with a tiny amethyst pendant dangling from it. All were covered in the three most dominant Khuzdûl protection runes, just like her bracelets.

Protected Sister. Protected Heart. Protected Soul.

Ori had let it slip months and months earlier, after the dragon had been reclaimed but before everything had gone completely pear-shaped with the Arkenstone, that, traditionally, the runes were supposed to go on the sides of the gift not typically seen by others. The underside of a bracelet or on the inside of a dress. Bella’s brothers had made the decision to break from convention because they believed that the runes’ visible for all to see presence would provide Bella with extra security. It had warmed Bella’s heart to learn this then, and the knowledge would now provide her with the strength and courage to face Thorin again.

The dress went on first, the belt was secured around her waist and the dagger tucked into it next, and then Bella placed the necklace around her neck.

She had just finished lacing her boots, which she was rather glad no one would be able to see, when there was a knock at her door and, after Bella gave her permission, Fíli entered the bedroom. He was carrying a small, square chest made of walnut, which had dwarven patterns carved into its top and sides, and a purple silken pouch.

“What are those?” Bella asked, curious.

“Gifts,” Fíli grinned, “You look beautiful, but I’ve come to fix your hair.”

“My hair’s hardly broken, Fee,” Bella replied.

“No, but it is a bit shorter than the last time you were here,” Fíli commented lightly.

Bella answered his unspoken question, “The ends of my hair got a bit singed in Mordor. I had to cut them away and it’s only now beginning to grow properly again. It’s about the length it was when I left the Shire.”

“Well, it’s still long enough to braid these in,” Fíli said, holding up the plum-colored sack.

Bella cupped her hands together and Fíli poured twelve silver, rounded beads into her palms. Each one had the name of one of her brothers embossed in Khuzdûl and also a pretty rune that she did not recognize.

“What’s this one?” Bella asked.

“Bél,” Fíli revealed, “Your name in our language.”

“Oh,” Bella’s eyes watered, “I would like very much to wear these, Fee.”

Fíli smile was soft and pleased, “Sit at your dressing table and I’ll braid your hair, Namad.”

It didn’t take very long. Fíli was quite adept at plaiting complicated patterns, like the one he was fashioning out of Bella’s hair, unlike Kíli, who, Bella had noted, still wore no braids in his hair. Which was actually a bit concerning considering…

“Why doesn’t Kíli have Tauriel’s bead in his hair?” Bella questioned as Fíli placed the last of her new beads in her plaited locks.

“Thorin forbid it,” Fíli replied, “Until we have more dwarrows that we can truly trust within the Mountain, Kíli and Tauriel cannot be seen as anything more than friends. The situation is tenuous right now. Fortunately, thanks to the bargain Thorin made with Aragorn, Amad will be here in about a month and a half with about two thousand of our people, and Dáin and his men will be able to return to the Iron Hills.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t just eloped.”

“They probably would have if… if we hadn’t all been mourning you,” Fíli admitted, “And after we discover that you were alive, they wanted you to be there when they married.”

“I’m sorry,” Bella repeated quietly.

“You’re not to blame,” Fíli tone brooked no argument, “Dáin, on the other hand, needs to watch his back.”

“Do try not to start a war,” Bella said.

Fíli smirked, “Well, you know that we dwarves are quite a hot-tempered lot. War may be unavoidable.”

Bella huffed at him, grudgingly amused.

“One more thing and you’ll be ready,” Fíli told her, retrieving the flat box that he had carried in earlier and passing it over to her.

Bella set it in her lap and then opened it, inhaling in surprise when she saw its contents, “Fíli, this is a…”

A tiara. An exquisitely forged diadem of twisted silver and amethyst was nestled against black velvet.

“Fee,” Bella murmured with a frown, “I can’t-”

“You can,” Fíli disagreed immediately, “You are a princess, Bél, amongst men and elves of Arda and even if you were not, you would still be a member of Erebor’s royal family because of Kee and I. It’s expected, Namad, for you to wear a crown of some sort at all formal occasions.”

“I was _banished_ , Fíli.”

“That does not change that you are my sister. Even before Thorin recanted your banishment, you still would have been considered part of Erebor’s royal family, despite your exile, according to dwarven law. Harming you would have still been considered a high crime, punishable by death. Only the King… he’s the only one who would have been exempt from such.”

Thorin had struck her on the battlements, after Fíli and Kíli had stopped him from throwing her off of them. Bella could still feel his hand around her throat sometimes, choking her as he raised her up.

“Anyway,” Fíli continued, “Thorin has retracted your expulsion from the Mountain and thus has restored all of your rights to you, which includes your right to wear a diadem.”

Bella was still frowning, “I have to wear a crown to _every_ formal event, including the dinners in the Great Dining Hall?”

“All of them,” Fíli confirmed.

“Very well,” Bella conceded with a sigh, “It’s not that the tiara’s not beautiful, because it is, immensely so, Nadad, but…”

“But you’re not used to things like this,” Fíli finished for her, “I know, Namad. Kee and I aren’t very used to them either and we’ve been princes all of our lives.”

“Did you and Kee make this?” Bella asked, lifting the delicate diadem out if its box.

“Kíli did the metalwork and I set the gems,” Fíli nodded, “We have several more almost finished, but we wanted to get this one completed first.”

“You made _more than one_?” Bella questioned incredulously.

Fíli gave her a bemused smile, “Of course we did. You can hardly wear this one every single time. I mean, Dori would happily have a hundred purple dresses made for you if you wished it, but I imagine that you’d eventually grow sick of the color, Bél.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Bella admitted.

Fíli took the tiara out of her hands and placed it atop her braided hair, “There, now let’s go get this spectacle over with.”

************************************************************************

As statements went, Balin acknowledged as he and the rest of Bella’s brothers took in her lovely appearance, it was hardly a subtle one.

Every inch of her person, from the beads in her hair to the embroidered hem of her vibrantly purple dress, declared her to be the beloved sister of Erebor’s High Lords and Heirs. The meaning of the protective runes she was covered in could not be misconstrued.

As Bella’s eldest brother, Fíli had been the one to braid her hair for the event, and the design he had chosen, well, _not subtle indeed_. Not all braids held meaning in dwarven culture, in fact, most were merely for decoration, but the plaits that Bella was sporting, they were the plaits that a Warrior Princess would traditionally wear upon her triumphant return home to her kin. A symbol of victory and bravery.

Balin doubted that Fíli had told Bella what her braids meant, likely to keep her from fighting him about them, because Bella’s sense of self-worth was abysmally low. Balin thought that Fíli had chosen well, regardless. Only the most foolish of dwarrows would be unable to comprehend the message that her attire and braids sent out to all.

_I am a treasured member of Erebor’s Royal Family, a princess and a fighter; give me grief at your own peril._

Only the very, very stupid would even think to come after Bella following this demonstration.

Like the others, Balin very carefully pressed a kiss to Bella’s forehead to help steady her nerves. Time had not decreased Bella’s aversion to being the center of attention. Many times during the course of the Quest had Bella blushed and stammered whenever the eyes of the Company had fallen upon her. She had grown into her own amongst them, had gradually come to view their consideration of her as something to derive strength from, Balin knew, but her disdain for being under the scrutiny of strangers had not lessened. Balin then entered the Throne Room, along with the rest of the Company, to await her and Fíli’s entrance. Balin positioned himself in a place where he would have a clear view of Bella and Fíli walking towards the throne and also where he would be able to clearly perceive the reactions of those watching. It would be good to note the faces of anyone who looked upon Bella with disdain so he could make sure Nori kept an eye on them.

Everyone stared as Fíli and Bella crossed the threshold into the Throne Room, the latter on the former’s arm, and looking every bit the royalty that they both were. Bella did not look nervous, but her face was completely blank and her fingers were white where they clutched at Fíli’s emerald and ruby encrusted doublet, a sign that Bella was attempting to hide some very intense emotions. Fíli, for his part, looked confident and bold, his eyes daring anyone to make an issue of his sister’s presence and his head held high beneath his golden crown.

Thorin, well, Thorin looked as impassive as Bella. Time was, Balin had always been able to read his King, but Thorin had perfected an emotionless mask shortly following the Battle that Balin could not see past. Perhaps if he had been able to be around Thorin more often, but no, the other had buried himself in his duties as a King and the reconstruction of Erebor and had held everyone at arm’s length.

Fíli and Bella closed the distance to the throne quickly. Fíli bowed and Bella curtsied as one.

“Your Majesty,” Fíli announced, “I, Fíli, son of Vali, Crown Prince of Erebor, present to you my sister, Bella Mira Baggins, who seeks to take refuge in the safety of your Kingdom.”

“Welcome back to Erebor, Your Highness,” Thorin spoke, loudly enough for everyone to hear him.

Well, Balin certainly hadn’t expected _that_.

For Thorin to refer to Bella with the honorific in such a public situation, well, he had permanently declared that her status as the Sunrise Princess would be recognized in Erebor. She would be a princess in more than just technicality amongst the dwarves of Arda.

Dáin looked horrified.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Bella replied in a clear voice, although Balin did not miss how much more tightly she was clinging to Fíli’s arm.

Fíli, for his part, looked stunned and his surprise would only grow at the next words that Thorin uttered.

“I owe you my thanks, and that of my people,” Thorin said, “For not only did you provide a great deal of help in reclaiming this kingdom from Smaug, you also risked your life to defend it and the rest of Middle Earth from the Dark Lord, Sauron.”

“You’re… welcome,” Bella managed, her blue-green eyes wide.

“You shall be welcome to remain in Erebor for as long as you desire,” Thorin continued, “And everything you require to live comfortably here shall be provided for you. You need only ask for anything and, if it is within my power, it shall be done.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Bella repeated, looking a bit faint now.

Fíli must have noticed this as well because he spoke up, “With your leave, my King, I shall escort my sister to her chambers. She has had a long journey with little chance to rest.”

Thorin inclined his head in agreement, “Very well, my nephew, see that your sister is taken care of.”

Fíli bowed again, and Bella barely had the time to remember to curtsey, before Fíli was all but dragging her from the Throne Room. Balin would have been more concerned with the lack of decorum on Fíli’s part, had he not still been reeling from all that had occurred. The rest of the Company also looked like they could have been knocked over with a feather, so astonished were they.

Thorin stood, signaling the end of Court for the day, and turned to Balin, “I need to speak to you and Dáin at once, Balin.”

Balin and Dáin followed Thorin to the King’s study and Thorin’s purpose for ordering them there became quite clear when Thorin suddenly turned on Dáin in anger.

“You knew that Bella Mira Baggins was alive,” Thorin sounded as furious as he looked, “You sent her away, in my name, after the Battle and did not deign to tell me about it. My Company, my nephews, mourned her for months and, all along, you had the power to ease their grief and yet you did not.”

Dáin, for his part, did not bother denying it, “She is a traitor, Thorin! They shouldn’t have been mourning her in the first place!”

“You had absolutely no right to decide that,” Thorin thundered, “None, Dáin!”

Dáin looked terrified, and Balin couldn’t blame him, he had not seen Thorin so angry in a very long time.

“My kin and friends were so distraught that I feared I was going to lose one or more of them to grief!” Thorin shouted.

Oh, so Thorin _had_ been paying attention to them while he was busy trying to work himself to death. Good to know.

“Mahal help me, Dáin,” Thorin decreed, “If you and your men show the Sunrise Princess even the slightest amount of dishonor, you will not like the consequences. Do you understand?”

Dáin nodded weakly, “Yes, Thorin.”

“Good, I’ll see you in the practice ring tomorrow morning. It’s been quite awhile since we sparred, _cousin_ ,” Thorin snapped, “Now get out!”

Dáin sprinted out of Thorin’s study.

Balin watched his King take several calming breaths.

“Forgive me, Balin,” Thorin eventually said, “I needed you here to ensure that I didn’t just kill the bastard.”

“How did you find out?” Balin wondered.

“Kíli,” Thorin replied, “Not that he came right out and just told me. I overheard him cursing Dáin out in Khuzdûl and asked him about it. It took a bit, but I managed to get him to give me the whole story. He thought that, perhaps, I too had known that Bella was alive, and it took more time than it should have to convince him that I wouldn’t have been able to keep that a secret.”

Balin understood in that moment, (and he chided himself for not _seeing_ earlier), why Thorin had truly allowed Bella to return to the Mountain, why he had ordered the Arkenstone locked away, why he had been so furious with Dáin. Because Thorin had not said that he wouldn’t have kept Bella’s fate a secret, but that he would not have been _able_ to. Like it would have been impossible. Thorin had grieved for Bella too.

_Thorin was in love with Bella_.

Maybe this shouldn’t have been a surprise. Dwarves only love once in their lifetimes, after all. But he and the others had come to assume that Thorin had never really loved Bella at all, that he had been merely infatuated with her, because why else would he have upheld her banishment after the gold-sickness had been overcome?

It had been a source of great friction between Thorin and his Company, the King’s refusal to hear a word about allowing Bella back into Erebor. Even after they had learned about her feat in Mordor, he had rebuffed all of their attempts to persuade him to change his mind, burying himself in work to avoid them all. And then, he had recanted her banishment in an instant, without providing a good explanation as to why he had done so, because Fíli had privately revealed to the Company that Thorin had no intention of allowing anyone to go near Khazad-dûm.

Balin was still missing something vital.

Thorin noticed his staring and raised an eyebrow, “What is it, Balin?”

“You _do_ love her,” Balin blurted out before he could check himself. Thorin paled a bit and Balin continued, “Why would you keep her away if you love her?”

“I don’t wish to speak about this,” Thorin replied harshly, his face becoming like the stone, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

The King stomped away as quickly as he could, his speed just under what would have been called running by any who observed him.

Balin needed to speak to the others. This, this was a game changer.

************************************************************************

“Absolutely not,” Kíli snapped as soon as Balin had finished speaking, “He’s never touching her again.”

Balin had not been able to speak to the others until much later that night, after Bella and Thorin had both retired to their respective rooms. Dinner had been an awkward affair. Thorin had spent the whole meal glaring at his plate as if it were Azog reborn and Bella had been so unnerved by Thorin’s glowering that she’d barely touched the food put before her. Every attempt to break the silence had failed and eventually everyone had simply resigned themselves to a deathly quiet meal.

When Balin had finally gathered them all together, the information he shared shocked everyone, save one.

“You knew,” Balin realized, looking directly at Nori.

“Well, yes,” Nori shrugged, “I’m surprised _you_ didn’t until now. You and Dwalin are around him more than anyone else.”

“Thorin has kept us at bay for some time,” Dwalin replied, “I knew he was upset about somethin’, I just figured it was because of Fíli and Kíli not speakin’ to him.”

Nori rolled his eyes, “You mean to tell me that _none_ of you noticed that he has worn the braid and bead he took from Bella around his wrist every single day since the Battle?”

Balin felt a bit foolish for having missed that and he could tell that everyone else did as well.

“None of you are ever joining my Shadow Shields,” Nori determined.

“He always wears long-sleeved shirts, even in summer,” Kíli protested, “How were we supposed to have noticed?”

“By using your eyes,” Nori said dryly.

“It doesn’t matter if he loves her or not,” Glóin declared, “He struck her, shamed her, tried to _kill_ her. He’s not goin’ to be courtin’ her again.”

“He was gold-sick,” Dori reminded.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bofur retorted, “Gold-sick or no, striking your intended is an offense punishable by exile at the very least. He only got away with it because he’s the King.”

“Even when it was clear that the madness had faded,” Bombur added, “He never once showed any sign that he was sorry for what he had done.”

“He buried the Arkenstone away in the vaults,” Balin pointed out.

“ _To keep it safe_ ,” Bifur signed.

“That’s what he told Dáin,” Fíli chimed in, “But I think it’s clear now that what Thorin tells Dáin cannot always be relied upon as fact. He may very well have had another, more important reason.”

“What if,” Ori spoke up hesitantly, “What if she forgives him?”

“Well,” Dwalin spoke after a long moment, “I suppose it would be better for her to be Erebor’s Queen than for her to marry anyone else. What if she found some tosser outside of the Mountain and went to live with him?”

“She won’t,” Fíli said with certainty, “She loves Thorin. Hobbit hearts are stirred only once in their lifetimes. If he asked for her to, she would forgive him. Thorin is the only one she would ever consider marrying and even that took a great deal of convincing on his part the first time.”

“Why was she so reluctant?” Óin asked, “Did she doubt, as we have, that Thorin loved her back?”

Fíli shared a loaded look with Kíli. Balin had a feeling that he was not going to like the answer to Óin’s query.

“No,” Kíli admitted, “She was sure of his love until… well.”

“Bella cannot have children,” Fíli said.

“Which we knew,” Bofur replied, “We’ve known that since early on, when she told us that she’d never had a moon bleeding and never would.”

“Yes,” Fíli explained, “But because she cannot have children, according to Shire Law, she’d forbidden from marrying. Her people would… they would execute her for even daring to try.”

There was a long moment of silence, which was broken when Glóin growled, “I’ll bash all their heads if they come anywhere near her!”

Thus followed a long discussion where it was detailed all of the unpleasant things that the Company could do to anyone, Hobbit or otherwise, that tried to hurt their Bella.

They were only reminded of their original reason for meeting when Kíli turned to his brother with a new question, “Thorin won’t dare court Bella without your permission, not after what happened. You won’t give it to him, right, Fee?”

Fíli was silent for just a bit too long.

“Fee!” Kíli protested hotly.

Technically, Balin knew, Thorin didn’t _need_ Fíli’s blessing, despite the fact that Fíli was considered the head of Bella’s family according to dwarven law. Dwarves were quite well known for marrying despite their family’s disapproval of their chosen. But after the dreadful business with the Arkenstone, if Fíli ordered Thorin to stay away from Bella, Thorin would. Balin might have been taken aback by the revelation that Thorin’s heart _had_ been claimed by Bella, but now that this truth was known, Balin didn’t doubt that if Fíli declared that his uncle was a threat to Bella’s well-being, Thorin would cede to his nephew’s decision.

“I certainly wouldn’t give Thorin my permission if he came to me right now,” Fíli told them all, “He has so much groveling and apologizing to do before I would even consider… but if Bella forgives him and wants to give him another chance… I’m not going to tell her no.”

“He’s not good for her!” Kíli argued.

“We don’t have the right to decide that for her, Kee,” Fíli said firmly, “Not anymore, probably not ever again. Thorin’s not the only one who was affected by the gold. We were not so deeply under its thrall that we would have hurt her, but we were still too blind to realize that we should have intervened long before Bella was forced to steal the Arkenstone.”

“He hurt her.”

“You think that we didn’t?” Fíli challenged.

Kíli, at last, fell silent.

“She forgave us,” Fíli said, “Although we have done very little to earn that. Above all else, our sister deserves to be happy, and if she decides that Uncle will make her happy, then I’m not going to stand in her way.”

When exactly, had Fíli grown so wise, Balin wondered, when had he become such a natural leader, unafraid of making the hard decisions?

“And if the gold-sickness comes back? Bofur demanded.

“Then we protect our sister,” Fíli stated simply, “No matter what the cost.”


	3. Part the Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of Sindarin is rudimentary at best, just so you all know.

**_Chapter Three_ **

Bella woke to Fíli and Kíli bouncing on her bed.

“You two are just overgrown dwarflings,” Bella groaned, not at all ready to be up, “I hope that you realize that.”

“You slept for longer than six hours,” Kíli tilted his head in curiosity, “We’ve never known you to do that before. I though Hobbits needed less sleep than other races.”

“I lost a lot of sleep on the way to Mordor,” Bella said, sitting up and stretching, “My body’s still catching up.”

“You can sleep some more if you like,” Fíli offered, “But everyone’s gathering for breakfast and it’ll be last time that you see the rest of them all until dinner.”

“I’m up,” Bella decided, shoving her thick covers to the side and shivering when she was hit by cool air.

“Here,” Fíli passed over to her the sheer white dressing gown that she’d brought from Gondor. Bella slid it on over her nightshift, although it did little to warm her.

“What is everyone up to today?” Bella wondered, “Will they be very busy?”

“I’d say so,” Kíli responded.

“Thorin named all of the members of the Company his High Lords,” Fíli explained, “And gave them high-ranking positions in the kingdom to go along with their shares of the treasure.”

“What positions?” Bella asked, “No one’s said much about what you’ve all been doing this past year, except for, well…”

“Balin is the Chief Advisor to the Throne of Erebor,” Kíli answered quickly, “And Dwalin is the Master of the Captains of the Royal Guard, not that there are many guards yet, let alone captains.”

“Dori is the Guildmaster of Erebor,” Fíli said, “Which means that he’s in charge of all the other Guild Chiefs and is responsible for settling any disputes between the guilds. He’s also been working on opening a tea shop, the Silver Raven, he’s taken to calling it, which will be ready for business once the caravans from the Blue Mountains arrive. Nori is Erebor’s Spymaster and the leader of the Shadow Shields, the kingdom’s secret enforcers. Only the Company is supposed to know about its existence. As far as most everyone else in concerned, Nori is the only spy in Thorin’s employ.”

“Ori’s the Master Scribe of Erebor and is in charge of the Great Library. He’s the only scribe in the kingdom right now. Bombur is the Master of the Kitchens and the Keeper of the Keys for the food stores and granaries. Bofur is the Chief of the Miner’s Guild and the Executive Foreman of all the Gem Mines. Bifur is the Chief of the Woodworker’s Guild and, with Bofur’s help, has constructed a toy shop, The Gilded Toy Chest,” Kíli revealed, “Bifur’s skill in toy making really is unparalled and Bofur’s pretty good at it too.”

“Óin was appointed the Master of Erebor’s Royal Healers,” Fíli finished, “And Glóin is the Master of the Treasury, keeping track of all of Erebor’s profits and expenditures. It sounds rather boring, really, but he’s happy.”

“And the two of you?” Bella inquired, “Or was being Princes enough?”

“Kíli is the Chief of the Silversmith Guild,” Fíli replied, “And I’m the Chief of the Jeweler’s Guild. Although, to be honest, when it comes to these new titles, we really haven’t been given too much work to do yet.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, the silver and gold mines are still blocked off and will be until there are more structural engineers available. Those mines took the brunt of the damage when Smaug was living here,” Kíli shrugged, “The gem mines were mostly intact, but there really aren’t enough miners in the kingdom to do anything but shallow mining, which doesn’t produce anything but really tiny jewels. So, my two silversmiths and Fee’s three jewelers don’t have an abundance of fresh materials to work with yet. They’ve been helping to fix things around the Mountain, mostly. All Fee and I have to do is make sure that they’re being paid properly.”

“I’m sure that you two will do a marvelous job of things once production picks up,” Bella told them, no doubt in her mind that this was the truth.

Fíli and Kíli puffed up proudly.

“So, what will we be doing today?” Bella inquired as her brothers led her out of her bedroom.

“We’re going to Dale,” Kíli answered, “There’s someone there who really wants to see you, Bél.”

“Tauriel,” Bella smiled, “I like that plan very much.”

“We thought that you might,” Fíli grinned, “And we can explore Dale’s markets while we’re there. They’re more diverse than Erebor’s right now, because of all the traders from the settlements between here and Rohan. I’m sure that we can find some pretty threads for you to weave with.”

“After breakfast, you can help me pick out which tapestry to make first,” Bella said, “I’ve got several planned out. That way I’ll know what color threads to get from Dale.”

The rest of the Company was already in the dining room, afflicted with varying degrees of sleepiness. Bofur’s shirt was backwards, Dwalin was shirtless, and Glóin had forgotten his trousers. The only three who appeared wide awake were Thorin, Balin, and Bombur. The former two were poring over reports of some kind, while the latter was giving his chefs explicit instructions on where precisely to place each dish being carried in. Bella was extremely relived that Thorin’s foul mood from the night before seemed to have passed.

Bella’s two eldest brothers plunked her down in a chair across from Dwalin and then claimed the chairs on either side of her. A steaming pot of thick, black coffee was set in front of Dwalin, who reached out for it before it had even begun to cool and began gulping it down. Bombur chuckled at him as he placed a cup of tea in front of Bella along with a little bowl of sugar.

“I like your new tattoos, Dwalin,” Bella remarked as she stirred two teaspoons sugar into the blackberry brew, because he did have new inkings, the names of each member of the Company printed down his biceps in Khuzdûl.

“Thanks,” Dwalin grunted out, “Although they’re not done yet. I’m getting’ them outlined in blue and silver.”

The colors of Erebor would be fitting, Bella acknowledged, to denote those that retook the kingdom from Smaug.

“Fee and I got inkings too,” Kíli revealed, “On our backs.”

“You did _what_?” Thorin spoke up, with wide eyes.

“Um…”

Thorin huffed, “Your mother is going to kill me.”

Balin patted the King on the shoulder, “Well, at least it will be relatively quick and painless, with Dís.”

Thorin shot him an aggrieved look.

“What kind of inkings did you get?” Bella asked Fíli in a whisper.

“Two ravens guarding a rose,” Fíli disclosed to her, “We got them done a few days after we learned that you were alive.”

Bella blinked back tears and smiled at him.

Breakfast was a far merrier affair than dinner the night previous had been and Bella was a bit sad when it came to an end and everyone splintered off to get ready for the day. She had found that she liked all her brothers in one place and had to content herself with knowing that they’d all be together again come evening.

Bella dressed in the only other set of clothes that she’d brought with her, a long-sleeved grey tunic over red leggings. The edges were fraying in places from constant use, much like the similar outfit she’d worn the day before. Her mithril coat she wore under her tunic while Sting and a small money pouch were strapped around her waist. Fíli and Kíli entered her bedroom as she was fastening a small dagger around each forearm, her sleeves pushed up to accomplish this.

Fíli just raised an eyebrow at the sight but Kíli spoke up, “Planning on knifing somebody, Bél? We don’t mind of course, but you should probably let us know ahead of time so that we can make sure you have an alibi.”

Bella rolled her eyes at him, “They’re just a precaution, Nadad. These daggers saved my life and I don’t like going without them.”

“The holsters look elven-made,” Fíli noted.

“They were,” Bella replied, “I shattered the knives I brought from the Shire during the Battle. They really weren’t made for war. These were a gift from Lord Elrond, given to me before I set out from Lothlórien and they’ll never go dull or break, much like Sting. The daggers immediately return to their holsters once their target is dead.”

“We owe the Lord Elrond our gratitude then,” Fíli said as Bella pulled her sleeves down to cover the daggers, “Are you wearing your mithril coat?”

“Yes,” Bella confirmed.

“Let’s take a look at your tapestry ideas,” Kíli bounced in place, “How many have you come up with?”

“Seven,” Bella answered, pulling a stack of carefully folded papers out of pack, “I had a lot of free time while waiting for my ankle to heal enough to walk on.”

Fíli and Kíli opened them up and spread them out across her freshly-made bed. There was a depiction of the Lonely Mountain as Bella imagined it would look once the land had finally healed from Smaug’s desolation, majestic and beautiful, with its base covered in the White Mountain blossoms that symbolized rebirth and renewal. Next was a picture of the Stone Trolls awash in the light of dawn.

Another picture showed the Eagles of Manwë flying away from the Carrock as the Company gazed upon Erebor in the distance. Then there was the Company traveling down the river to Laketown in barrels as orcs and elves chased after them. The fifth displayed the Secret Door into Erebor as the last light of Durin’s Day hit it and the sixth exhibited the treasury, with Smaug dozing upon the giant piles of gold.

Finally, there was the scene that depicted the whole of the Company battling Smaug in the Gallery of the Kings, the floor a pool of liquid gold and more gold dripping off the dragon at just the moment that the arrow Kíli loosed pierced Smaug’s heart.

“They’re all beautiful, but I think, this one,” Fíli pointed at the last, “You should do this one.”

“Fee,” Kíli murmured in protest.

“I agree,” Bella replied.

“How long will it take you?” Fíli questioned.

“About a month,” Bella told him, “If I work on it a little bit each night.”

“It takes Men much longer to weave,” Kíli said, “Months and months.”

Bella shrugged, “Hobbit.”

“Let’s get down to Dale,” Fíli instructed, “I’m sure that Tauriel’s patience is running thin.”

************************************************************************

Bella had not even entered Dale proper before she found herself scooped up into a tight embrace, Tauriel’s lean arms holding her close to the elf’s willowy body.

“ _Ai seler', laita i' Valar_ ,” Tauriel whispered, “I have been so worried about you.”

Tauriel pulled back a bit so that she could examine Bella, which also allowed Bella to take in Tauriel as well. The elf looked no different than she had the last time that Bella had seen her. Well, less covered in the blood of orcs and goblins, she supposed.

“I’m sorry, _seler'_ ,” Bella sighed, “I’m afraid that there was a rather unpleasant misunderstanding that prompted my departure.”

“Tell me,” Tauriel ordered.

************************************************************************

“I like Dáin less and less with each passing day,” Tauriel announced as Sigrid passed over to her a small glass of wine.

“That sentiment is widely shared,” Kíli muttered, taking a large gulp of his own wine.

The group had migrated to Bard’s home, so that Bella could tell Tauriel about what Dáin had done, where they had immediately come across Sigrid, Bain, and little Tilda. The younger two had grown taller during the past year, Bain was almost his father’s height now, but the only change to be found in Sigrid’s appearance was that she now usually wore her long blonde hair mostly down, with a part of it braided around her head like a golden crown. That, and all three of Bard’s children now wore much nicer clothing, for all that the garb was still incredibly modest by dwarven standards.

“Here you go, Fíli,” Sigrid gave Kee’s older brother a glass, blushing as she did.

Fíli blushed back, “Thank you, Sigrid.”

Fíli had it bad for Bard’s eldest, Kíli realized, and for the first time he considered that Sigrid had changed her hairstyle not to emulate Tauriel, who always wore her red-gold hair down with small sections of it braided back, but for Fíli’s benefit. Kíli really needed to start paying more attention to things.

“He’s not very nice,” Tilda chimed in then, “The last time he was here, he glared at everyone, including Da.”

“Keep an eye on him,” Bain cautioned, “He kept looking at your uncle in a way that gave me chills.”

“The sooner that Amad gets here with our people, the better,” Fíli said, “I don’t think that it would take much to push Dáin into trying to hurt Thorin; it’s become very clear in the past few months that Dáin’s gold-sick. Thank Mahal for Nori, he’ll be able to sniff out an assassination attempt a mile away.”

“Speaking of your uncle,” Tauriel turned to Kíli, “He came to see me a few days ago, on the night of the summit, _Nûlukhuh_.”

************************************************************************

Kíli burst into his uncle’s bedroom without bothering to knock, making the dwarf within start in surprise.

“You went to speak to Tauriel,” Kíli said without preamble.

Kíli, Fíli, and Bél had spent several more hours in Dale with Tauriel and Bard’s children. They’d all enjoyed showing Bella around the healing city of Men and helping her find the best weaving threads that its markets had to offer. Going to see Tauriel had been a wise choice, because Kíli’s Heart had known to ask questions of Bél that the Company had not. Kíli doubted that Bél would have ever spoken of her near death at the hands of the creature Gollum, thank Mahal she had managed to escape from the Spider he’d led her to, otherwise. She also probably wouldn’t have told anyone that the poisonous fumes of Mount Doom had nearly killed her, would have if Gandalf had not gotten her to the elven healers in Gondor in time, if Tauriel hadn’t insisted on scanning her core.

Since she’d left her elven one in Erebor, Fíli had immediately went and purchased a thick white fur cloak for her to wear, to keep the cool autumn air from hurting Bél’s still healing lungs. Kíli had wrapped a green scarf around her neck and Tauriel had forced her to don a pair of red mittens. Tilda had decided to help out too and pressed a bright pink knitted hat atop Bél’s head. Kíli’s sister had insisted that they were all being ridiculous, but had eventually given up protesting in favor of being distracted by the wares being sold around her. She hadn’t shivered once after, and it worried Kíli, the thought that she had not even noticed that she was so cold. If the Ring had been before him, he would have broken it apart with his bare hands.

They’d had a grand morning, lunch, and early afternoon together, but from the moment that Tauriel had spoken of his uncle visiting her, Kíli had been itching to confront Thorin and demand an explanation that made sense.

“I did,” Thorin blinked at him, as if not sure that Kíli were really there or if he was replying to an apparition of some kind.

“You told her that you’re constructing rooms for her,” Kíli frowned, “In the Royal Wing.”

“Well she certainly can’t move into your room, Kíli,” Thorin pointed out, “It would be entirely inappropriate. Whether or not she actually sleeps in those rooms is your own business, of course, but, for the love of Mahal, please don’t get her pregnant until after the wedding.”

“You’d be okay with that?” Kíli asked in amazement.

Thorin made a pained face, “Kíli, I changed your diapers, I _really_ don’t want to think about you having sex.”

“I don’t mean… I meant… you wouldn’t be angry if Tauriel and I had a child together?” Kíli explained, then hastily added, “Someday. Far in the future. She’s not pregnant.”

Thorin looked confused now, “Why would I be angry about that?”

“Because she’s an elf and I’m dwarf.”

“Kíli,” Thorin’s voice was soft, “I would love any child of yours, even if it were part Orc. If Tauriel blesses you with a child, I swear that he or she will be cherished and adored all of their life.”

“You’re really okay with me marrying her,” Kíli realized, and a piece of him that had been anxious for months settled.

“Tauriel is everything I ever hoped you would find, my sister-son,” Thorin said, “Someone who loves you with their whole heart and who would do anything in your defense. I’m going to be proud to call her my niece one day. I hope that your brother finds someone just as worthy.”

There was a good chance that Fíli already had, Kíli considered, as the memory of his brother and Sigrid stammering almost constantly in each other’s presence came to mind. Once the two of them got their act together, Kíli was going to enjoy teasing his big brother about his unnatural shyness quite a bit.

“I want to marry her outside,” Kíli announced, “At night, under a full moon and the stars.”

“That’s an unusual place for a wedding ceremony to be held,” Thorin said, “But one that, I confess, will suit the pair of you quite well. It’s customary for you to craft her wedding jewelry.”

“Yes,” Kíli agreed slowly, unsure of his uncle’s reason for bringing the topic up, “But I haven’t found any materials that I want to use yet. Nothing’s been quite right.”

“I have something that I’ve been meaning to give to you,” Thorin revealed, “That I think will meet your standards, especially since you wish to marry her at night.”

Thorin walked over to his armoire and opened it, pulling out a small iron-wrought chest that he handed to Kíli, along with a silver key. Kíli set the heavy box on Thorin’s writing desk and unlocked it. The contents took him aback.

An ingot of Mithril and three dozen of the White Gems of Lasgalen, which shone with pure starlight.

“I thought it fitting for Erebor’s new princess to possess jewelry fashioned from the most precious metal of the dwarves and the most beloved gems of the elves,” Thorin said, a bit hesitantly.

“I though that these gems were returned to Thranduil,” Kíli murmured.

“Most of them were,” Thorin illuminated, “But not all. If Thranduil takes issue with his niece wearing them, then he can take it up with me.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Kíli said gratefully, “These are perfect for her.”

Thorin nodded, “You’re welcome.”

Kíli then dared to ask another question, one that had been burning inside him, “Do you love Bél?”

Thorin stiffened, “Kíli-”

“Do. You. Love. Her,” Kíli demanded to know.

Thorin almost seemed to wilt, “Yes, yes, of course, I do. But it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because even if she granted me her forgiveness, I would always know that I did not deserve it.”

“Shouldn’t that be her decision to make?” Kíli retorted, because Fee was right, none of them had the right to make her choices for her.

“I can’t ask that of her, Kíli,” Thorin said tiredly, “That she lives, and is safe and happy with her kin, is enough for me. I deserve nothing more. I received a letter from your mother today. After she cursed my name for four long paragraphs, she mentioned that she and the caravan she’s leading will arrive a fortnight before Durin’s day.”

“That’s sooner than expected,” Kíli remarked, allowing the abrupt subject change.

“The Rangers that are now leading them are highly skilled,” Thorin stated, “As pleased as I am to speak with you, Kíli, I have to go now, I’m already late for a meeting with Glóin.”

Kíli nodded, but called out before Thorin left, “Uncle? Don’t give up on her, alright? And, don’t give up on yourself either.”

************************************************************************

“By the Valar,” Bella exclaimed on Monday afternoon as package after package was carried into her sitting room via a parade of dwarves, “What on earth did you ask the Tailors to make, Dori?”

“A full fall and winter wardrobe,” Dori answered proudly, “Fourteen everyday outfits, twelve dinner dresses, two autumn cloaks, three winter coats, and boots to match everything. The Tailors collaborated with the Leatherworker’s Guild to make those. Your festival gowns aren’t quite finished yet, as we’re all sincerely hoping that you’ll put a bit of weight back on before Durin’s Day.”

“There’s a festival on Durin’s Day?” Bella asked.

“Oh, yes, a rather grand one,” Dori replied, “And the day after that is the Day of Dragon’s Reckoning, and there shall be another great party for that. There is to be a memorial on the twenty-fifth of October, for all those slain in the Battle, and then the Festival of the Tri-Alliance, a four day fête with tournaments and feasts to celebrate the tethers between the dwarves, men, and elves that were born of fighting side by side.”

“October will be a busy month for everyone,” Bella commented, “With so many things going on.”

“Yes, indeed,” Dori was examining the tags on the brown paper packages until he found the one he was looking for, “Aha, here it is, you should wear this dress tonight. You’ll be the best-dressed lady in the Mountain.”

“There are only five females in the Mountain right now,” Bella pointed out, “And two of them won’t even be at dinner.”

Arnura and Arníra were on tasked with guarding the Royal Wing tonight (every night really, until more dwarves from the Blue Mountains arrived), which was a bit disappointing, because Bella had found that she enjoyed their company. She’d invited them in to have tea with her the evening before and had discovered that they were quite sweet and clever and very loyal to Dwalin, who had apparently saved their lives a few years back.

The other two dwarrowdams Bella had not yet gotten the chance to meet as they were the wives of two of Dáin’s advisors. Bella had only met a handful of the dwarves from the Iron Hills, but they all seemed terribly afraid of her for some odd reason. Not that Bella had met many dwarves at all, since her brothers seemed to be conspiring to keep her away from all places in the Mountain that would be densely populated. She’d seen the Great Library, and had immediately understood why Ori basically lived there, Erebor’s Kitchens, before any of the other chefs save Bombur had arrived, and the beautiful Crystal Caverns, where there grew hundreds of thousands of mushrooms of over a hundred varieties and also where the Eastern and Southern Drops, huge multi-tiered waterfalls, were located.

“The Ladies Huma and Bania shall be nothing compared to you, dear,” Dori insisted, “And even when the kingdom is full of dwarrowdams you shall still be the most elegantly-clad of them all, even if these clothes do have a distressing lack of precious stones on them.”

Dori unwrapped the dress he had selected so that Bella could see it. It was a stunning display of rich, black silk that had hints of deep blue throughout it. It would touch the floor once Bella had it on and had three-quarter sleeves that were puffed at the top and a square neckline. It was also covered in sapphires, which made Bella wonder what, exactly, an appropriate amount of gems was in Dori’s estimation.

“It’s beautiful, Dori. How long do I have before dinner starts?” Bella wondered, “I’m afraid that it’ll be awhile before I can tell the time inside the Mountain with ease.”

“A few hours,” Nori answered, beating Dori to the punch, from where he was leaning against one of Bella’s open doors, carrying with him yet another package, this one wrapped in dark gold paper, “Nice dress. I’ve come to deliver your new nightgowns from Esgaroth. They were made by the same man who made the one that you liked so much when we first stayed in Laketown.”

Bella _had_ liked the grey and green nightgown very much. It had been made of soft wool and lace and had been remarkably warm. Which had been very nice, as Esgaroth had been so very cold, even in September. The nightgown had not survived her trip to Mordor, unfortunately, and the night shift and robe that had been provided for Bella in Gondor were lovely, but really had not been designed for the cooler temperatures found farther north.

“Ori’s making matching dressing gowns,” Nori said, “To appease your Hobbity sensibilities.”

Bella mock-glared at him. It had been a source of amusement for all the dwarves on the Quest, her propriety and refusal to wander around in just her nightdress. She hadn’t been able to look any of them in the eye for days after the first time they went shirtless in her presence. She’d become accustomed to their occasional preference for partial, or complete, nudity, and didn’t mind foregoing her dressing gown on occasion, but only one person, save her parents, had seen her undressed and she was keeping it that way.

“I’m sure that they’ll be wonderful,” Bella said, because Ori’s skill with a needle truly was impressive and if he hadn’t loved books so deeply, he’d have made a fine tailor.

Nori stayed to help Bella and Dori unpack her new clothing, a plethora of silks and velvets and muslins that looked both beautiful and comfortable. Bella couldn’t wait to wear her new waistcoats. As they finished sorting her wardrobe, Bella asked a question that she had mulling over for a few days, “By the way, I was wondering, can dwarrowdams get tattoos?”

“Sure,” Nori shrugged, “There’s no gender separation when it comes to inkings. The Lady Dís has some pretty impressive ones, I’ve heard, more than her older brother even. Why, did you want one?”

Bella nodded, “Only, I don’t know how to go about getting one.”

“It’ll be painful,” Dori warned immediately, “No matter where you get it.”

“I imagine so,” Bella replied, “But I want one anyway.”

“If this is because you think that you’ll be more accepted amongst the other dwarves in the Mountain if you get one-”

“It’s not,” Bella assured Dori, “I promise. It’s just… it’s important to me.”

“Óin can do it,” Nori told her, “He did Dwalin’s. It’s not something he normally spends his time doing, but he’s good at it, and I think that you’d be happier if he was the one to do it rather than someone you don’t know.”

Bella was inclined to agree with him, “I’ll talk to him tonight at dinner.”

A knock sounded and the three turned to see Arníra in the doorway holding what Bella recognized now as a jewelry box. Most dwarrows preferred gilded chests set with gemstones, but Fíli and Kíli knew that Bella favored the wooden ones that Bofur or Bifur carved for her.

“Pardon me, Milady, My Lords,” Arníra greeted, “But His Highness requested that I deliver this as he is currently unable to.”

“Thank you, Arníra,” Bella accepted the box, “Tell your sister ‘hello’ for me, please.”

“I will, Milady,” Arníra curtsied, a bit clumsily as she was unused to the action, “Have a good evening.”

Bella opened the box and carefully removed the adornments within. A string of square-cut sapphires on a golden chain, several golden cords with small sapphire clasps on the end that Bella supposed were meant to be woven into braids, and a matching tiara.

“I though that the mines weren’t really open yet,” Bella commented, “Where are they getting the metal and gems to make these?”

“From their shares of the treasure, I’d reckon,” Nori answered.

“They don’t need to be wasting it on me,” Bella frowned, “They-”

“They’re not wasting it,” Nori insisted firmly, “Besides, a few baubles like these are hardly going to put a dent in their shares. You saw the obscene amount of wealth in the Treasury.”

Bella pursed her lips but didn’t argue.

“Since we have time, do you want me to show you how to pickpocket dwarves from the Iron Hills?” Nori offered.

Dori whirled on him in protest, “Nori!”

“Yes,” Bella accepted, “It could come in handy someday.”

Dori threw his hands up in the air muttering about the corrupting influence of his little brother.

Nori cackled in delight, “Come on then, Namad.”

************************************************************************

Bella was sure that the food on her plate tasted amazing. It had been prepared by Bombur, after all. But the stares she was receiving from pretty much everyone in the Great Dining Hall made it hard to concentrate on the flavors present in her lamb cutlets and roasted potatoes.

There were whispers too, and the dwarves they emanated from were not nearly as quiet as they believed. Or perhaps they just didn’t care to keep their voices low; subtlety was often wasted on Mahal’s children, Bella knew. Either way, Bella’s grip on her platinum and opal fork was growing tighter by the minute. And then Kíli flicked a chunk of potato at his brother’s head, hitting Fíli squarely in the nose.

Fíli’s eyes narrowed, “You are so gonna regret that, Nadadith.”

And then Fee sent a roll of pumpernickel bread flying toward Kee, only for Erebor’s youngest prince to dodge at the last second, causing the thick hunk of bread to smack into the dwarrow sitting at the table opposite.

It became sheer, utter chaos after that.

Food was thrown in every direction from every direction. It would have horrified Bella, if she were not already very accustomed to this particular aspect of dwarven culture. Rivendell had proven to her that her dwarves, despite her belief at the time, really had been on their best behavior when they invaded her smial. Still, it seemed like a great waste of food.

Dwalin pulled Bella behind his hulking frame and got hit in the chest by a tomato for his trouble. The warrior immediately grabbed an entire platter of miniature meat pies and proceeded to send them hurtling every which way.

Bella sighed, grabbed her plate, and crawled under the table, letting the golden cloth that covered it obscure her presence and block any food from knocking into her. Fíli and Kíli joined her a moment later, proudly wearing self-satisfied smirks on their faces.

“You planned this,” Bella accused without heat.

“We had to,” Kíli said unapologetically, “If you gripped your silverware any tighter it would have snapped, which is quite a feat when it comes to dwarven-made anything, Bél.”

“I don’t imagine that the cooks will be very pleased with you,” Bella remarked, taking a bite of her, rather delicious she now realized, dinner.

“There’s a food fight at least once a week,” Fíli shrugged, “It helps keep morale up.”

Bella laughed without reserve. It felt strange, out of place, and it took a moment to realize why. When was the last time she had expressed her amusement so freely? Before the Battle, before the gold-sickness took the minds of those she loved.

“I’m glad that someone finds this entertaining,” Thorin said, having apparently joined them in avoiding the fray without them realizing it. His clothing was sporting numerous stains and there were pieces of carrots in his hair, but he was smiling fondly at his nephews, “I hope that you enjoy cleaning up as much as you enjoyed starting all of this, my sister-sons.”

Despite the vegetation dangling off of his person, he looked so much like the Thorin who had held her tenderly in his arms as he pressed gentle kisses to every inch of her body that it made Bella want to weep. She loved him so much that it hurt to look at him, knowing that he would never gaze so affectionately at her again.

Fíli and Kíli just grinned at him.

**_Translations_ **

  * _Ai seler', laita i' Valar_ – Little sister, praise the Valar
  * _Nûlukhuh_ \- My Moon




	4. Part the Fourth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go guys, :)

**_Chapter Four_ **

Bella wandered into the dining room the next morning and was greeted by Dori shouting at Dwalin.

“And just how long exactly have you been involved in a sordid affair with my baby brother!?”

Bella almost turned around and walked back out, because it was far, far too early to have to witness a blowup between her brothers, except that Thorin chose that very moment to enter the room behind her.

“What in Mahal’s name is going on?” the King demanded as he took in the sight of his entire Company tense, as if preparing for a great battle.

“Dori finally found out that Dwalin and Ori have been canoodling behind his back for months,” Glóin announced helpfully, and loudly.

“We have not been _canoodling_ ,” Dwalin protested.

“Our relationship is _not_ sordid, Dori,” Ori snapped a second later, “We’re getting married!”

Bella’s eyes widened and nearly everyone else froze in shock. Dori went pale as milk and looked like he was going to pass out.

Nori recovered first and he stalked toward the couple, looking every bit as dangerous as they all knew he could be, “What? He hasn’t even presented you with a courting gift.”

“Yes, he has,” Ori admitted, “Just a few minutes ago. That’s why we were… um…”

“Snogging on the table for everyone to see?” Kíli finished for him, “A bit disturbing that was; you know that we have to eat in here.”

“Then where is it?” Nori questioned heatedly, “And why didn’t Mister Dwalin first announce his intentions to Dori, _like he was supposed to_?”

“Because I told him not to!” Ori retorted, “Because I knew that you and Dori would be completely impossible! You don’t care that he makes me happy; you just want to keep me tucked away like a child forever! Do you really think that I haven’t noticed how you try to keep me in the dark every time something goes wrong? I’m marrying Dwalin, whether the two of you like it or not!”

Dori and Nori just stared at their little brother, as if for the first time seeing someone other than a naïve, kind, and gentle child with a penchant for the written word. Bella rather figured that it was about time.

“Well,” Bella said with as much cheer as she could muster, “I suppose that we had better get started with planning a wedding. We have until a year from today, correct?”

Thorin had been the one to tell her, after presenting her with his paternal great-grandmother’s diamond and ruby ring, that according to dwarven law, a couple had to be married within a year of becoming betrothed to one another. If they did not, their betrothal was no longer considered valid and, if the two still wished to be wed to one another, they would have to complete all of the engagement rites over again.

After the elder in the pairing presented the younger with a courting gift, one that had to indicate both financial stability and a keen eye for quality, (which was typically done only after first announcing their intentions to the head of the other’s family), and it was accepted, the first set of marriage beads were exchanged. After this, three sets of gifts, the Offerings of Devotion, were traded between the betrothed couple. Each partner would then offer their intended’s family a Gift of Goodwill and Honor and then the two families would come together to throw a grand feast for the soon-to-be wedded pair, (unless, of course, the two families were feuding for one reason or another). Finally, during the wedding ceremony itself, the second set of marriage beads would be braided into the locks of the happy couple, for everyone present to witness.

Thorin’s great-grandparents had to go through the rites three times before they were finally wed, due to their parents’ desperation to keep the two from marrying in the first place. Bella had been sure that she and Thorin would not suffer such difficulty; she only wished that she had thought to account for the lure of gold.

She still had the ring, wrapped up in a handkerchief at the bottom of her pack. Thorin hadn’t demanded its return that day on the battlements and Bella hadn’t thought to give it back to him. She really probably should, even if her heart ached at the very idea. It was an heirloom of the King’s family and really did not belong in her keeping. She could get away with not giving the mithril coat back, because its function was to protect her, but the ring was a symbol of a love that no longer existed. At least not on Thorin’s part.

Ori and Dwalin gave her matching looks of gratitude.

“We shall have to have a party to celebrate,” Bella continued, “I’ll finally be able to make use of my new kitchen.”

“Do Hobbits usually throw a party when two people become engaged?” Kíli asked.

“Hobbits throw parties for _everything_ , Kee, but yes,” Bella said.

“So,” Bofur drawled out, “What did Dwalin give you, Ori?”

Ori produced a small, platinum-bound book encrusted with aquamarine from the pocket of his robe. From what Bella could see, its pages appeared to be made of solid gold instead of actual paper. Ori pulled it close to his chest, close to his heart.

“Dwalin wrote me a book,” Ori revealed with a sappy smile directed toward the warrior-dwarf. Dwalin returned it eagerly.

It was, quite possibly, the most perfect gift that Dwalin could have given to Ori, and Bella was proud of Dwalin for thinking of it. Anyone who believed that Dwalin had no heart was an idiot of the highest caliber.

“That is an absolutely lovely gift,” Bella praised upon seeing it.

“It is,” Fíli agreed, “Now how about we all eat breakfast before it goes cold?”

Slowly, everyone managed to sit themselves down in their respective chairs. Ori sat down next to Dwalin, across from Kíli. Bella took her usual spot between Erebor’s two princes. Dori and Nori sat as far away from Dwalin as they possibly could. As the meal progressed, Bofur often leaned over to say something to Nori, probably trying to get the trickster dwarrow to smile by telling him jokes. It eventually began to work and Nori relaxed more and more.

Dori, on the other hand, remained tense throughout breakfast, until he finally left early, stating that he needed to finish some things up in his teashop. Bella frowned as he left, fights between family members were bound to occur at some point, she knew, but she didn’t have to like it.

“You’ll be with Dwalin today,” Fíli told her a minute later, “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” Bella replied.

“I know that yer probably lookin’ forward to wearing what Dori had made up for you,” Dwalin said, “But it’d be best if you saved wearin’ yer fine new clothes for this afternoon. We’re gonna be trainin’ some of Erebor’s wannabe guards this morning.”

Bella grinned in delight.

************************************************************************

Bella was not amongst the most skilled fighters that Dwalin had ever trained, at least not yet. He had no doubt that, one day, she would be. She was stubborn and determined and _driven_ , driven by her deep desire to be able to defend those that she loved.

Dwalin remembered with ease the day when Fíli first began teaching her to properly use Sting. They had been recuperating at Beorn’s when Bella had asked the prince to instruct her in the proper way of handling her little letter opener. The lad had been thrilled to do so, but everyone had quickly realized that Bella would have been better off asking someone else to teach her, no matter how accomplished Fíli was with his own blades.

Fíli was terrified of hurting his little sister and it showed in his training of her. He went so far as to pretend to lose the grip on his makeshift sword, they were using long sticks instead of actual weapons, to avoid smacking her in the thigh with it. This was the point when the rest of the Company, who had all been watching, openly or otherwise, decided that they had to speak up.

Bella did so first.

“What _are_ you doing?” She had demanded in indignation, hands on her hips.

“Training you?” Fíli had replied, as if unsure that this was the appropriate answer.

“Really?” Bella had said in a wholly unimpressed voice, “So if I jump in front of another orc, he’ll drop his weapon to avoid giving me a bruise? That’s remarkably civil of him.”

Thorin had choked around the pipe he had been smoking; his eyes alight with true amusement.

She had only the day before saved his King from his own idiocy, (facing Azog and a dozen other orcs by himself while everyone else dangled from a Mahal-damned tree, what _was_ that dunderhead _thinking_ ), so Dwalin had already decided that she belonged with the Company and was someone that he and the others could trust, but her dressing-down of Fíli permanently put Bella on the list of people that Dwalin cared about. It was a fairly short list, although it had grown during the course of the Quest.

Fíli had stepped up his game then and begun teaching her properly. She progressed quickly, more so than any of them believed that she would. Dwalin had been puzzled by her dogged resolution to fight, especially since she had been so reluctant to take Sting when Gandalf offered the elven dagger to her in the first place. The truth came out following a question from Beorn.

The skinchanger had been showing Bella around his garden and Dwalin, and all of the others too, had been secretly following them to make sure that the bear-man wasn’t planning on trying anything funny when Beorn asked, “Don’t you miss your home, Little Bunny, and your kin?”

“My kin are here with me,” Bella had replied instantly, “And no, I don’t miss the Shire, not like I probably should anyway. It’s almost funny, how I never realized how much I hated my life until I was thrust into a new one. It’s like I was wearing a mask for years, letting my relatives press me into a mold of respectability, and then I was suddenly allowed to be myself. I… I was truly free for the first time since I was a fauntling. I’m happier traveling through the Wildes with the Company than I ever was in Bag End.”

“I suppose that these dwarves cannot be so bad then,” Beorn had mused, “If they have been so good for you.”

“They’re not bad at all,” Bella had insisted, “They’re all quite wonderful, really. They saved me from myself and I _will_ see their home returned to them.”

“And what will you do then?” Beorn had inquired.

“I don’t know,” Bella admitted, “But I can’t go back to the Shire. Not after all of this; and I don’t want to. But even if I did, I doubt that they’d let me back. Hobbits are, for the most part, racist and prejudiced and very, very set in their ways. I’m a rather poor example of my people, you see. At best, they’d just pretend I didn’t exist. I don’t imagine that I want to go very far from the Company anyway, as I’m much too fond of them.”

Bella was willing to cast aside the expectations and resolutions of her entire race for _them_ , was willing to take up arms for _them_. This had been the point when Dwalin realized that he loved her and, Mahal, if this was how Balin felt all the time, then he owed his older brother so many apologies for the stunts he had pulled over the years.

Dwalin had started teaching her basic self-defense that eve. Kíli decided to show her how to shoot with a bow a few days later. Nori cottoned on to her natural skill with things that she could throw, like rocks and pinecones, and helped her learn to adapt this to the little knives she had brought along with her and had been delighted by how well she did. Thorin had shown her how she could fight with them in close combat too. Glóin had been making plans to teach her how to fight with an axes and how to throw spears.

Bella had eagerly anticipated the lessons, no matter how sore they made her. She had put her new abilities to the test in Mirkwood, when she saved them all from the Spiders. Dwalin had been quite proud when she had boldly declared that she had given her little blade a name in the aftermath.

“We’ll be using staves today. Fifty attacks and fifty blocks each,” Dwalin announced to the group of dwarves gathered in one of Erebor’s smaller practice rings. There weren’t enough of them to justify using the main pitch, which was large enough to allow a thousand dwarves to practice at once. One day, but not today, “Namad, you’re with me.”

Bella caught the Blackwood, steel-tipped staff that Dwalin threw easily and spent a moment examining the markings carved into it.

“Why are there protective runes on this?” Bella questioned, making some of the dwarves within earshot stiffen. Dwalin understood why, members of other races were only very rarely permitted even limited knowledge of Khuzdûl.

“Get to practicin’ now,” Dwalin barked at them before turning to Bella as they scurried to do as he ordered, “Most dwarven-fashioned weapons have such on ‘em. A reminder that these tools are meant only to defend kith and kin and not to harm innocents.”

Bella nodded in appreciation, “I bashed an orc over the head with a walking stick a few months ago, because I couldn’t get to Sting, but it never occurred to me to use a staff as a primary weapon.”

“They usually aren’t,” Dwalin told her, “But in the heat of battle, anything can be a weapon, as you learned. I assume that you killed the piece of filth that came after ya’.”

“He’s very, very dead,” Bella agreed, “I made sure.”

Good. Anything and everything that dared to come after Bella was going to end up just as dead if Dwalin had anything to say about it. Dwalin shifted into a battle stance and Bella copied him without being prompted.

“I’m gonna attack,” Dwalin instructed, “You anticipate and block.”

“So,” Bella asked a minute later, as she successfully blocked Dwalin’s staff with her own for the sixth time, “Do you know why Dáin had a black eye at dinner last night?”

“Our King beat the snot out of him a few days ago,” Dwalin told her, “He called it ‘sparring’, but everybody knows that Dáin was being punished for lyin’ about you.”

“Thorin won then,” Bella said, “Since he was obviously uninjured at dinner.”

“Aye, he won alright,” Dwalin replied, “Dáin was all but carried out of this very ring when it was all said and done.”

“Why was Thorin so upset?” Bella wondered.

Dwalin raised an eyebrow at her, “He thought you were dead for months because of that fool. If I’d been allowed, I’d have kicked the crap out of Dáin too.”

Dwalin could see that his little sister still didn’t understand. He wanted to tell her, wanted to tell her that Thorin was every bit as in love with her as he ever had been. But no, he and the others had sworn that they would let Bella and Thorin work things out between themselves. No matter that it would probably take till the remaking of the world for the pair to do so.

Dwalin feigned left and managed to break through Bella’s defenses, smacking her right arm hard enough for her to lose her balance and fall over. Bella gave him a chagrinned smile as she got back on her feet, raising her staff again. Many of the dwarves around them seemed to support her quick return to action. Most, but not all.

Dwalin noticed then that one dwarf in particular was sneering at Bella more openly than anyone else. Grijak wasn’t from the Iron Hills or the Blue Mountains. His family had originally been from Erebor but they had separated from the rest of Durin’s folk after Smaug had driven them all from the Mountain. Grijak’s family, one of Erebor’s noble families back then, had gone to live with some of their merchant kin in the South and only Grijak had so far returned to Erebor. He certainly wasn’t one of the best of Dwalin’s new recruits, his sword work was mediocre at best, but he did have some talent with knives.

Still, Bella could best him in a fight. And that gave Dwalin an idea.

“Did ya’ bring yer knives down here with ya’, lassie?” Dwalin asked her.

“Of course,” Bella responded, “They’re always on me if I can help it.”

Dwalin approved of this, “Grijak! Get over here!”

Grijak approached him eagerly, “Yes, Captain?”

“My sister needs someone to spar against her and her knives. Do you think that you can handle it?”

Grijak sputtered, “Of course I can handle it, Sir, but surely someone else more suited to _her_ skill level would be better, Captain, as I could unintentionally harm her.”

Bella raised an eyebrow at the slight but refrained from commenting. Her response would not be vocal, but would be the thrashing Grijak was about to receive. Fíli and Kíli had been right about her from the beginning; she was a true Warrior Princess.

“Neither the King nor Lord Nori are available, so you’ll have to do,” Dwalin retorted.”

Grijak frowned but withdrew his knives. Bella gave Dwalin a look, one that clearly told him that she would be expecting an explanation for all of this later, but she flipped out her knives too with two simultaneous flicks of her wrists. They had been hidden under her sleeves and no one, save Dwalin, had suspected that they were there. Elven holsters had their uses after all, it seemed. Not that Dwalin would be getting himself any. Ori might like one though. He would have to speak to Tauriel about it.

The knives were pretty little things, clearly Elven made. They appeared to have been forged as complements to Sting, with almost identical markings on their blades as those that Bella’s letter opener sported. Dwalin wondered if they, like Sting and Orcrist, would glow blue if orcs or goblins were near.

Grijak moved into position and Bella followed suit. Dwalin raised his arm and then brought it back down quickly, “Azighrib!”

Grijak lunged at Bella with a ferocity that Dwalin would have approved of, had it been directed toward anyone else but his little sister. Grijak reached where Bella had been only to suddenly realize that she had disappeared. Mahal, Dwalin had forgotten how fast Bella could be, because she had moved behind Grijak and managed to point one of her knives at the dwarf’s back in the time it took to blink. This was the same speed that had saved the line of Durin during the Battle; Bella had killed Bolg while Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli lay injured, (but not mortally, thank the Valar), behind her. If Azog’s spawn had not stood a chance then neither did a spoiled lordling with less than half of Bolg’s talent.

If the rest of the dwarves present had not already been watching intently, they definitely were now. Grijak figured out what had happened, a bit more slowly than Dwalin would have been happy about, (battles could be won or lost in the span of seconds, after all), and spun around in anger, one of his knives meeting hers. At the sharp ringing of steel meeting steel, the fight truly began.

Grijak leapt and swiped and charged at her repeatedly, while Bella danced around him, moving to a melody only she could hear or understand. She circumvented his attacks every single time, dodging his blades and evading his larger form with ease, wearing him down in less than a quarter hour. Finally, she saw an opening and took it, pinning Grijak down into the dirt of the ring, one knife positioned against his throat and the other pressing upon the wrist of his dominant hand. She was basically on top of him, her right knee holding his chest in place while her left boot kept Grijak’s right hand from rising up.

“Itkhizh!” Dwalin instructed, and Bella rose away from Grijak immediately, sheathing her knives in a swift motion that would have made _Nori_ envious, “Well done, Namad.”

“She didn’t fight me at all!” Grijak roared in protest as he stood, “She let me do all the ruddy work!”

“Of course I did,” Bella replied coldly, “It’s one of the first lessons I was taught, ‘let your opponent wear themselves out and then go in for the kill’. How do you not know that?”

“I don’t fight unfairly,” Grijak snarled at her, practically vibrating with fury.

“Then learn to,” Bella snapped, “An orc will not fight fair. A goblin will not fight fair. You can’t either. When you’re in a battle, the only thing that matters is winning, because that’s the only way that those you love will endure when it’s over. War is not glorious or wonderful; it’s a bloody, terrifying mess. You either win or you die. Fight _fair_ , Grijak, and you and those that you fight for will surely die.”

It was a harsh lesson, one that Dwalin had not yet realized that Bella had learned, and as much as he wished that she had never had to learn it, he was grateful that she had and that he didn’t have to be the one to teach it to her. When had she been forced to see this truth? During the Battle? Before? After? When had this piece of her innocence been lost? A large part of Dwalin didn’t really want to know.

A young dwarrow, one of the youngest in the Mountain, although he was of age, Dwalin knew, scurried up to them before Grijak could reply. It took a moment to recall that the lad, Frítzi, was serving as Thorin’s page.

“I’m sorry to interrupt practice, my Lord Dwalin,” the page said, “But His Majesty, the King, requests your presence in his quarters at once as a matter of urgency.”

Dwalin nodded at the boy sharply, Thorin would not call Dwalin to his side while practice was still going on unless the issue was truly important, “I’m on my way. Practice is ended for the day! I’ll see ya sorry saps on the morn after next. C’mon, Bella, I’ll take ya to yer rooms first.”

************************************************************************

“What’s goin’ on?” Dwalin asked at once as he entered Thorin’s study.

“Dáin has formally requested an audience with me. He’ll be here in just a few minutes,” Thorin explained, rising from the chair that he had been sitting in, “And I would rather that you were here for it, especially after what occurred between the two of us a few days ago.”

“Understood,” Dwalin cracked his knuckles. If Dáin made a single move that Dwalin didn’t like, he was going down.

“Let’s hope that I’m being overly cautious,” Thorin sighed, “So, have you figured out how to keep Ori’s brothers from killing you in your sleep?”

“Yer Majesty? Shut up.”

Thorin chuckled. Dwalin noticed that he looked more like himself than he had in ages. Healthier too. Just having Bella in the Mountain had relived so much of the stress that had been ever-present on the King’s face for months. Why didn’t Thorin just go and apologize to her already? Dwalin was seriously considering locking Thorin and Bella in a closet to see if that solved their issues. He wondered if barring one’s King inside a broom cupboard counted as treason if it was for a just cause. Probably, which was a bit disappointing.

A knock sounded, preceding Dáin entering the room. He had dark bags under his eyes and he looked nervous. He looked even more apprehensive upon catching sight of Dwalin, which made the warrior vindictively pleased.

Thorin crossed his arms and asked without bothering with any pleasantries, “Why are you here, Dáin?”

“I’ve come to apologize to you, cousin,” Dáin admitted, “And to request an audience with the Sunrise Princess, so that I might apologize to her as well.”

“The Princess ain’t meetin’ with anybody by herself,” Dwalin growled out.

“I’d never presume to request anything of the like,” Dáin was quick to assure.

Dwalin just glared at him and cracked his knuckles again, making Dáin flinch a bit.

“The gold-sickness is gone,” Thorin remarked with quiet relief.

Dwalin examined Dáin more closely. The Lord of the Iron Hills appeared to be deeply ashamed and also, Dwalin realized, his eyes were free of the terrible gleam that had been ever-present for months. The thrall _was_ gone from him. And about time too.

“Yes,” Dáin said, “You rather beat it out of me, cousin, and I thank you for it. I… I’m sorry. My actions, my thoughts even, they were truly despicable. I beg you for your forgiveness, Thorin, my King.”

“I would be the worst kind of hypocrite,” Thorin replied, “If I could not forgive you, my cousin. I am glad to see you returned to your senses and back on my side.”

“I shall ever be mortified that I gave you cause to doubt me,” Dáin remarked solemnly, “And I _will_ make it up to you, if it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear this to you.”

“Protect the Princess for as long as you both reside in Erebor,” Thorin told him, “And I shall consider it done.”

“With my life,” Dáin vowed, “May I apologize to her in person?”

Thorin looked at Dwalin.

“I’ll speak to ‘er,” Dwalin said after a minute of looking Dáin over with narrowed eyes, “But it’ll her choice whether or not she sees ya. I won’t stand for her ever bein’ coerced into anythin’ ever again.”

************************************************************************

After Dwalin had dropped her off in her rooms, Bella had gone to her bathroom straight away, stripping off her sweaty clothes, and stepping down into the hot water that constantly swirled through her tub. There was a bench all along the edges that Bella could sit on as she washed and she did so for several long minutes, letting the warmth soothe her muscles. She had not fought like she just had in some time, not since destroying the Ring, and she was surprised at how much she had missed it, missed the feeling of her blood pumping through her veins.

She scrubbed herself spotless with a bar of rose-scented soap and cleaned her red-gold curls with the matching oil. Once she was as clean as she was going to get, Bella wandered through her bedroom and into her closet to select an outfit.

Underwear and then an undershirt of crisp white linen embroidered with tiny white flowers were slipped on first. Her mithril coat was next and then Bella put on a pair of long, emerald green trousers made of thick muslin. A silver silk shirt, with three-tiered puffed sleeves, covered the mithril and a silver and green waistcoat of velvet brocade went over the shirt.

Bella had earlier discovered that Dori really had ordered a pair of boots for every outfit crafted for her, so she pulled on the pair that had silver maple leaves, which matched those on her vest, stamped into the black leather. Her only jewelry was a silver and emerald hair comb, which she used to pin her hair up, and her ever-present bracelets.

She exited her suite to find Arnura and Arníra outside her doors.

“I’m going to the Silver Raven,” she told them, “I expect that you’ll be coming along?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Arnura replied, “Wandering alone would be unsafe.”

“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly,” Bella said, “Let’s go then. I need to speak to Dori as soon as possible.”

************************************************************************

The Silver Raven was a work of art, which was less of a surprise than one might expect, seeing as how Dori had been the one to design it. The entire shop was carved from a single enormous block of grey marble, like all of the little shops in the Southern quarter of Erebor’s Royal Bazaar, and had over a hundred silver fillings of ravens, outside and inside. Thick crimson curtains framed the two large windows at the tea store’s front.

When Bella found him, Dori was sitting at an ornately-carved stone table, in a matching chair with red velvet cushions, gazing despondently at the cup of tea, which certainly had to be cool as there was no steam rising from it, in his hands.

“Nadad?” Bella spoke softly, causing Dori to look up at her at once.

“Bella!” Dori cried in surprise, “Where’s Dwalin? He’s supposed to be looking after you.”

“Thorin needed him,” Bella revealed, “So he saw me back to my suite and then I decided to come here to see you. I know that the events of this morning were a bit of a shock for you.”

“You came alone?” Dori worried.

“No,” Bella denied, “Arnura and Arníra escorted me and are waiting outside in case I need them. Not that I _need_ an escort, thank you very much. But I didn’t come here to discuss that, let’s talk about Ori and Dwalin.”

Dori heaved a great sigh, “Ori’s too young to be getting married.”

“He’s of age,” Bella said neutrally, taking a seat opposite her brother, “And he’s proven himself several times over, in battle even. He’s not so young as to not understand his own heart.”

Dori seemed to crumple in on himself, “Yes, I… I know. But why did it have to be _Dwalin_? He’s nothing like Ori.”

“They’re more alike than you realize,” Bella disagreed, “They’re both younger brothers and fierce warriors, they’re both brave and loyal to a fault, and they both love their kin desperately. And I think that, with time, you’ll come to see, as the rest of us have, that the differences that they do have compliment one another quite nicely.”

“Are Nori and I the only ones who didn’t realize that the two of them cared about each other so deeply?” Dori moaned.

“I knew,” sounded a new voice, and Nori literally dropped down from the ceiling, claiming the third chair at the table, “I just thought it would take much longer for either one of them to do anything about it. Apparently Ori has picked up on more of my tricks than either of us realized, Dori.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Dori demanded.

Nori shrugged, “I guess I didn’t want to make an issue out of something that I didn’t believe would ever amount to anything anytime soon.”

Bella snorted, “You sorely underestimated our brother then.”

“Yes,” Nori acknowledged, “I won’t do so again.”

Dori huffed and rose, moving behind the bar to fix some more tea, “We’re going to have to have no choice but to give Dwalin our blessing, aren’t we?”

“If you want Ori to speak to you again sometime this century, yes,” Bella said wryly, “Honestly, he could do so much worse than Dwalin. He told me about all those awful lords in Ered Luin who just wanted him because he’s pretty.”

Dori spun around and demanded at the same time as Nori, “What lords?”

“Um… the lords who served the king of the Blue Mountains,” Bella answered with a slight wince, “But there’s no reason to get upset about them, they’ll have little reason to abandon Ginnar and come to Erebor. Ori’s quite safe from them.”

There was no need to mention that these lords were what had prompted Ori to go behind his brothers’ backs and sign up for the Quest in the first place. Bella would keep that particular tidbit to herself. Really, it was for the best.

Dori seemed slightly mollified, and he brought over three cups of hot tea that smelled like cherries and vanilla, which he then passed out.

Nori did not, “Ginnar could send one or more of those bastards here for diplomatic reasons.”

“Then it’s a rather good thing that Ori will have Dwalin, the King’s Right-Hand, around to keep them away from him,” Bella said blithely, sipping at her tea, “This is very good, Dori, very good, indeed.”

Not that Ori really needed anyone to defend him; Bella had seen how well Ori could wield most weapons, even if the scribe preferred his slingshot. But Bella was not above portraying Dwalin as a knight in shining armour to get Dori and Nori to approve, at least somewhat anyway, of the gruff warrior courting their baby brother.

“I’m glad, it’s going to be one of the Silver Raven’s signature blends,” Dori told her, “And I suppose that you’re right, about Dwalin.”

“I still think that he’s boring as hell,” Nori commented, “He’s such a stickler for the rules.”

“Well, that’s not such a bad thing,” Dori chided, “And it would probably be good for Ori to be around someone so straight-laced.”

Success was sweet. Almost as sweet as the fantastic tea she was drinking.

A knock sounded before Nori could argue and the three looked up to see Dwalin standing in the doorway, appearing a bit nervous, “Er, sorry to interrupt. I was told by the guards that Bella was here.”

“Do you think that me beating up Grijak will mean that I no longer need guards?” Bella asked eagerly.

“No,” Dwalin said definitely, bursting her bubble, and then he hastily added upon seeing Dori and Nori’s flabbergasted expressions, “It was just a trainin’ exercise. To show the others in the Mountain how well Bella can fight. Bella sparred with Grijak usin’ her knives and won.”

“Course she did,” Nori replied proudly, “Excellent job, _Namadith_.”

Bella blushed a bit, “Thanks, but I do believe I owe my success to the Company. You all were rather diligent at teaching me during the Quest.”

“Yer welcome to join me and the princes every other mornin’, Bella,” Dwalin offered.

“I think that I shall,” Bella accepted, “The exercise will be good for me and I could stand to become better with Sting.”

Dwalin turned to Dori and Nori then, “I owe the two of you an apology. I shouldn’t have kissed Ori so openly before speakin’ to ya first, so I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry for courtin’ him in the first place. I love him, more than anythin’. Ori didn’t want me to ask, he said that it was old-fashioned, but I’d like to have yer blessin’ all the same.”

Dori studied him for a long minute before jerking his head in acceptance, “Very well then, Mister Dwalin, you have it. I’ll go make you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you,” Dwalin replied gratefully and looked at Nori.

Nori grinned slyly, “Well, at least you won’t be able to arrest me anymore without pissing Ori off.”

“You had better not give him a reason to, Nori,” Dori scolded, “There’s no reason for any of _that_ kind of business to occur anymore.”

Nori just shrugged and kept on smirking.

“Dáin wants to speak to ya,” Dwalin told Bella then, “He wants to apologize.”

“He _what_?” Nori questioned, and Bella couldn’t find fault in his disbelief since she was rather taken aback as well.

“The gold-thrall has been broken,” Dwalin explained as Dori handed him a silver-edged cup of his own, “And he wishes to make amends for the things he did while under it. He apologized to the King and now wishes to do the same to our sister.”

Bella bit her bottom lip. Did she want to go anywhere near Dáin Ironfoot? No, a thousand times ‘ _no_ ’. But would it be better for Thorin and the Company if she were to allow Dáin to ask for forgiveness? Probably, and it would probably be even better if she were to accept his apology too. And there really was nothing that she would not do for them, was there?

“I’ll see him,” Bella finally announced.

“You don’t have to,” Dwalin said gently, “No one will blame you if you wish to stay far away from Dáin after what he’s done.”

“I’ve forgiven others for worse,” Bella said in a tone that brooked no argument, “I can forgive him.”

She didn’t have to explain to them that the ‘others’ she spoke of was in reality just Thorin, even though he had yet to actually apologize to her and perhaps never would. They already knew of whom she spoke of.

“How do you feel about peridot, Mister Dwalin?” Dori inquired, a blatant attempt to change the subject that Bella appreciated.

“Er…” Dwalin blinked, “It’s a nice gemstone and I know that Ori favors it and aquamarine more than others.”

“Yes, well, I think that Ori would look quite fine in an outfit studded with peridot for the marriage ceremony,” Dori said, “Don’t you?”

“Ori’d look wonderful in anythin’ to me,” Dwalin answered and Bella knew that he was being entirely truthful.

And that was how Ori found the four of them an hour later, drinking delicious tea, eating cherry tarts, and discussing what shade of off-white the tablecloths and napkins for the wedding ought to be. Bella just grinned at his utter shock over her fourth cup of Dori’s magnificent tea.

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Itkhizh_ \- Stop
  * _Azighrib_ \- Attack




	5. Part the Fifth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, I've finally managed to update this! :)

**_Chapter Five_ **

“There is a situation that you should be aware of, _Namadith_ ,” Fíli announced as they sparred three days later. Dwalin and Thorin were mirroring their actions a few dozen feet away and Kíli was firing arrow after arrow at numerous targets as quickly as he could.

Bella raised an eyebrow at him as Sting clashed against her brother’s sword with a sharp peal of sound, “It must be important, since you waited until we could not be overheard even accidentally.”

“It isn’t bad, necessarily,” Fíli assured, “But, yes, it is rather important.”

“What is it?”

Fíli hesitated and then spoke in a manner that was almost a sigh, “It has to do with courting.”

Bella frowned at him, “What about courting?”

“Two dwarves approached me last night asking if you would be receptive to being offered courting gifts,” Fíli related in a careful tone, “I told them the truth, that I myself doubted you would be.”

“No,” Bella said firmly, parrying a lunge, “Absolutely not. I don’t… _no_.”

“I figured as much,” Fíli told her, “But I was required to ask to be absolutely sure.”

“Why in the Green Lady’s name would they _want_ …” Bella huffed, “Surely they have to know that I gave my share of the treasure away to Bard.”

Fíli stared at her, very obviously upset, “Oh, Bella.”

“Fíli?” Bella tilted her head, bemused, “Fíli, what’s wrong?”

“How can you not see…?” Fíli exhaled sharply and then spoke in a tone as blunt as Bella had ever heard from him, “You’re immeasurably kind, you’re exceedingly intelligent, and you’re ridiculously brave. You outwitted a Mahal-damned _dragon_ and destroyed _Sauron_ , for Eru’s sake. You gave away a fortune to stop a war and save your kin; you walked across all of Arda and refused to pay any heed to those who told you that you couldn’t. You see no distinction between a dwarf and an elf and a man; you love equally and you scoff at the mere idea of putting yourself before others. You are exceptionally beautiful, by the standards of _every_ race, Bél. You are _amazing_ … and your inability to understand just how amazing is unfathomable to everyone who loves you, Bella. Every dwarrow in this Mountain wants to get to know you.”

Bella’s breath hitched in her throat, “I think that you may be a bit biased, _Nadad_.”

“I think that your sense of self-worth is much too low,” Fíli countered at once, evading a blow from Sting by shifting left.

“I don’t want to see any courting gifts, Fee,” Bella returned after a long moment, “Not now, not ever again.”

“You know that we’d never allow anyone from the Shire to hurt you, don’t you?” Fíli asked softly.

“I do know, but that’s not why I don’t want anyone trying to court me,” Bella replied. Her gaze flickered briefly to Thorin, who was now wrestling with Dwalin, “I… I’m never going to be able to stop loving him, Fíli. It would be callous and horrendously wrong of me to allow someone else believe that I could be happy with them.”

Fíli looked remarkably unsurprised by this and he gave her a wry smile, “I understand. I’ll ensure that everyone else knows that you’re unavailable for courting. There might be a few who try to offer you gifts anyway, though, so be aware of that.”

“Anyone who keeps trying after having already heard my refusal is going to get decked,” Bella promised.

Fíli chuckled, “Aim for their noses.”

In a swift move, Fíli knocked Sting out of Bella’s grip and tripped her, knocking the wind out of her in a very efficient fashion.

“Are you alright?” Fíli asked, holding out a hand. He only sounded mildly concerned, which was a stark contrast to how he’d sounded the first few times he’d knocked her down during a training session. Bella was grateful that he’d gotten past the stage where he insisted that Óin check her over each time.

“I feel like punching something, actually,” Bella admitted, letting him pull her up, “Hard and repeatedly.”

“I could go fetch Dáin, if you’d like,” Fíli offered, entirely serious, “If you think it would make you feel better.”

Bella snorted in amusement, “That would be rather petty of me, seeing as how I publicly forgave him last night.”

“We’ll call it training,” Fíli suggested with a devious smirk.

Bella rolled her eyes and raised Sting back up.

“What are your plans for today?” Fíli inquired then.

“I’m going to Dale with Bombur, and my guards, so don’t fuss, to get supplies for the party tonight,” Bella told him.

“Grocery shopping?” Fíli rejoined blithely, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Don’t pretend to be coy, _Nadad_ ,” Bella chided, “It doesn’t suit you.”

************************************************************************

Bella had enjoyed her first excursion to Dale’s market, had taken pleasure in wandering between the stalls, her eyes flitting between one brightly-colored object and the next. Despite being in the company of Erebor’s heirs and Dale’s, or perhaps _because_ of it, Bella had not received any great deal of attention. Being wrapped up head to toe in a mélange of fabrics had probably helped.

Now, though, dressed as she was in expensive clothing that accentuated her identity, she was getting plenty of looks. Many were reverential, appreciative, and kind, and it was easy to ignore this kind of attention, or nod cordially at an individual when she could not. Some of the gazes she drew, however, were dark, assessing, and ugly, as if she had been weighed and found wanting or, and this was probably worse, deemed adequate in the worst possible way.

Unnerved and irritated, Bella stayed close to Bombur, unwilling to leave her brother’s side even for a moment, because, she knew, a moment would be all that was necessary. She was more than capable of defending herself, of course, but, by the Valar, she shouldn’t have to be on her guard while shopping. It was infuriating and the sensation of being watched caused her to stumble briefly, her still-healing ankle buckling momentarily because of the stress.

The two of them made quick work of finding the foodstuffs that Bella needed for the party and then Bombur arranged for it all to be delivered to the Mountain, under Arnura’s watchful eye. Bella and her brother, with Arníra flanking them protectively, wandered amidst the stalls and shops for some time after, Bella delighting in helping Bombur pick out trinkets to gift to his children and wife.

They spent quite a while browsing a stand selling small painted glass figurines; Bombur purchased a lion, an Oliphaunt, and some kind of sea monster that were sure to delight his little ones and Bella bought a pair of purple and red dragons, several brown bunnies, and some gold and black bumblebees to adorn her study. Bella also bought a large pouch of hard maple candies, because she might not have had much experience with children, but she knew they liked candy and she was determined to be the best aunt to Bomber’s bairns that she possibly could be.

Eventually, Bella and Bombur found there way to the entrance of a shop selling man-made weaponry. In the window were a few dozen sets of throwing knives with hilts in a myriad of colors, arranged in a manner that was designed to draw attention. It certainly worked, because Bomber paused before the store thoughtfully.

“My Nína will soon be of the age to start training with weapons,” Bombur explained to Bella.

Bella frowned and said in an undertone, “Wouldn’t dwarven-made be better?”

“For battle, yes,” Bombur agreed, “For training, these will do nicely.”

Bella nodded and followed Bombur into the store.

The weapons’ shop was fairly large and it was inside that Bella and Bombur bumped, quite literally, into Sigrid.

“Bella! Lord Bombur,” Sigrid gasped, yanking her shawl, which had fallen to her shoulders, back up to cover her dark blonde hair, “Er… hello.”

“Sigrid,” Bella greeted, one eyebrow raised, “Snuck out did you?”

Sigrid worried at her bottom lip for a moment before sighing, “Don’t tell my Da?”

“It’s not safe to be wandering around by yourself, Your Highness,” Bombur admonished gently.

“I know,” Sigrid said, “But I needed some space. I feel so choked sometimes.”

“Let us escort you back,” Bombur allowed, “And there’ll be no harm done or need to go running to your father, Princess.”

“Thank you, Lord Bombur,” Sigrid murmured gratefully, “And, please, it’s just Sigrid. I doubt I’ll ever be truly comfortable being called Princess.”

“Here, here,” Bella quipped wryly.

“Just Bombur then,” Bombur smiled jovially at her, “I’m just going to have a word with the storekeeper about those alabaster-hilted knives in the front window. Don’t wander off.”

“We wouldn’t get past Arníra at any rate,” Bella assured him.

Bombur gave her a look, “ _You_ are more than capable of getting past anyone you please, sister dear, even dragons and ring wraiths.”

“True,” Bella conceded.

Bombur trotted off and Bella turned to look at the sword that Sigrid had been admiring, “Were you planning on buying this?”

It was pretty, admittedly, the sword, but Bella knew that if tested it would be found lacking. All man-made weapons would be when compared to those made by dwarves or elves.

“No,” Sigrid shook her head, “I was just browsing.”

“Do you know how to use a sword?” Bella asked.

“I wish to learn,” Sigrid admitted, her words laced with longing and regret, “But my tutors believe that a Princess of Dale has no business taking up arms and Da… well, the idea of me, or Bain, or Tilda, being anywhere near another battle terrifies him. He’s agreed to let Bain practice with the bow, but… nothing that would require close range.”

“That’s not so surprising,” Bella told her, “He nearly lost all three of you during the Battle of the Five Armies. You, your brother, and your sister, you’re his world; that has always been plain to see. Have you asked Tauriel her opinion on the matter?”

“She agrees with me,” Sigrid sighed, “But she said that it is my father’s place to make such decisions and she will not train me without his permission.”

“Tauriel has great respect for your father,” Bella said, “He gave her a home when she had none.”

“I know and I understand her position, I do. It’s just… I felt helpless, during the Battle. I couldn’t protect myself or my siblings. I don’t ever want to feel that way again, Bella,” Sigrid replied earnestly.

“Well,” Bella drawled, “Tauriel's hands may be tied in this particular circumstance, but there are others who can train you. I know at least one person would be more than happy to teach you how to use a blade; it is his specialty, after all.”

“Who?”

“Fíli,” Bella answered lightly.

Sigrid blushed immediately, “I… I couldn’t ask him… he’s a Prince of Erebor.”

“And you’re a Princess of Dale,” Bella pointed out, “Ask him, he won’t say no, I can guarantee that. Fíli is not the kind of person to abide his friends being defenseless in this world. He takes offense to that sort of thing.”

“But, how could I possibly get away with meeting Fíli in secret for any length of time?” Sigrid wondered, “It was a feat just sneaking out to come here today.”

“It doesn’t have to be a secret,” Bella suggested, “Fíli is Erebor’s Chief Ambassador to Dale; you’re Dale’s Chief Ambassador to Erebor. It would make sense for the two of you to meet up for a few hours twice a week to go over the trade agreements between your kingdoms together instead of separately; it would save time and the prevent the need for couriers. You’ll be guaranteed to be alone, since only the two of you are allowed to negotiate on behalf of Dale and Erebor.”

That had been made into law rather soon after the Battle, Bella had learned from Ori, because Bard had been as furious over Bella’s banishment from Erebor as he over Tauriel’s from Mirkwood. Thorin and Bard got on better than Thorin and Thranduil, but only just. Fíli and Sigrid had stepped up to handle the relations between Erebor and Dale; because if they’d allowed their uncle and father to handle matters it would have taken ten times longer and caused a great deal of grief. Balin was the one who dealt with Thranduil’s ambassador, because he was the only one who could handle the elf’s disdain for Kíli with any kind of grace.

“That… my father’s council might actually approve that,” Sigrid replied, “They might even claim the idea as their own. We would have to spend time actually reviewing the agreements, of course, to prove that we’re getting something done.”

“An hour reviewing and an hour training,” Bella recommended, “You’ll be a Shield Maiden in no time.”

Bella was all that worried about Fíli’s propensity for going easy on those he loved; she was quite certain that Sigrid wouldn’t stand for that happening.

“I can barely hold a sword properly,” Sigrid muttered cynically.

“I barely knew what a sword _was_ before I ran off on a mad quest to slay a dragon,” Bella rejoined.

“But… you fought so well in the Battle,” Sigrid protested.

“I was highly motivated,” Bella revealed, “To protect my family. I think that you are too.”

************************************************************************

When he was a lad, Bombur had always loved to watch others cook. It was how he had figured out what his calling was to be, watching chefs take simple ingredients and combine them into something that smelled and tasted amazing. Bombur had known, even when he was but a dwarfling of eleven, that a Master Chef was what he wanted to be able to become one day.

This dream had seemed perpetually out of his reach in Ered Luin, for he hailed from a family of poor miners and tinkers who could scarcely afford to pay for him to work as an apprentice under a baker, let alone someone as revered as a Master Chef was. He had long been forced to content himself with only being able to practice his skills as a cook when preparing meals for his family, while he spent his days as a tinker of mediocre talent. Bofur and Bifur were skilled miners and toymakers, the nobles loved to buy their pieces for their children, and this, above all else, was what allowed Bombur to feed his wife and their five children.

It depressed Bombur, knowing that he couldn’t truly provide for his loved ones without help, so when news of the Quest had come around, Bombur had jumped at the chance to change his fortunes. And _change_ his fortunes certainly had.

He would never have to worry about feeding his family again, not when he possessed a fourteenth of a massive treasure. His beautiful Rína and their bairns would live in comfort for the rest of their lives once they arrived in Erebor. And Bombur had gotten what he always wanted; he had been appointed a chef. Not just any chef, mind, he was the Master of the Kitchens for the greatest dwarven kingdom in all of Arda.

There were some things he was still learning, of course, but Bombur was, for the first time, truly in his element and he thrived within it. Everyone loved his food and it made him so incredibly happy to be able to do what he loved. And Bofur and Bifur were so very proud of him too.

Preparing food for an entire kingdom, even one that was not yet anywhere near capacity, required precision and excellence. It would be easier once the caravans started coming, for although the Mountain would boast more people, there would also be plenty more cooks to help him out. Bombur was glad that formal dinners were only on Mondays, Trewsdays, Hevensdays, and Mersdays, because cooking for them was as exhausting as it was rewarding. He needed the three day break to recharge his energy. Oh, he still cooked breakfasts and dinners for the Company, but that was different. That was cooking for family.

He would not be cooking tonight, which was a first in a long time, but he was hardly disappointed, because if there was one person whose food he enjoyed more than his own, that person was Bella. She had only cooked for them once, in Laketown, the night before they left for the Mountain, but it had been an absolute delight to eat the dishes she had painstakingly prepared.

Bella was cooking now, as Bombur watched, flitting between the soups on her stoves, the frying sliced potatoes, mushrooms, and chickens, the cheesy potato and venison casseroles and cheddar cheese scones in one oven, the mixed berry pies, mini pumpkin spice cakes, and blueberry tarts in the other, and the cinnamon-spiced apple cider that she was warming up, as if she were a fairy. Bella pulled out the bag of acorn squash that she had selected in Dale and removed the fourteen large vegetables. She sliced off the tops, stirred her chicken soup counter-clockwise, scooped out the squashes’ seeds, flipped the frying potatoes, and then began filling the cavities with butter, the pork she had browned earlier, white wine sautéed onions, celery, and carrots, pine nuts, a thick pinch of oregano, and a quick dash each of salt and pepper. Bella recapped the squash, arranged them on a baking tray, and slid them into her oven beside the scones.

Bombur had offered to help her earlier, but she had shooed him into taking a seat at the white table in the middle of the space and then presented him with a plate of honey biscuits to snack on. So Bombur dipped his cookies in the warm vanilla honey milk that she had poured for him and watched.

Bella sang as she cooked, lovely and light nonsense songs about flowers and sunshine. She had a beautiful voice, for all that it was very different from the low tones of her dwarven kin, and Bombur quite enjoyed listening to it. It had taken weeks and weeks for the Company to discover how well she could sing and even then it had been an accident; they had caught her singing to Beorn’s giant bumblebees. She was shy about doing it; even now she only did so when her mind was occupied by other things.

Bombur figured that he could blame the people back West, who had failed to love and cherish her, for this. They were to blame for a great many things. Although, Bella would never have become the Company’s most beloved treasure if not for the callousness of her people, Bombur could admit.

Bofur and Bifur slid into the thick wooden chairs on either side of him. They were freshly-bathed, probably because they knew that Bella would send them right back out of her pristine kitchen should they dare enter into it with the dirt of the day still clinging to them. Bombur’s brother stole one of his biscuits and munched on it.

“Bofur!” Bella spun around to face the dwarf, apparently not as far gone in her own little world as Bombur had believed, and waved her ladle at him in admonishment. Bofur looked at her with wide eyes, “If you want biscuits then _ask_ , don’t steal our brother’s.”

Bella was definitely Bombur’s favorite sibling.

Bifur laughed as Bofur swallowed the biscuit he had pinched and smiled, “Sorry, _Namadith_ , can I please have some of your fantastic, wonderful, amazing biscuits that taste like sunshine and happiness?”

Bella rolled her blue-green eyes but smiled back at him, “Yes, _Nadad_. Thank you for washing up first.”

“We had too,” Bofur revealed, as Bella brought over a plate of biscuits for him and another for Bifur, “We finally cleared out the rubble blocking one of the passages behind the Treasury and discovered that Smaug left us a few _presents_ for us to find in there.”

Bella wrinkled her nose in disgust as she poured Bofur and Bifur some warm milk, “Oh, ugh, I could have lived happily ever after without knowing that, Bo.”

“Yeah. We had all hoped that we would never have to deal with that sh-” Bombur elbowed his brother hard in his side, “Er, crap, again.”

Bella huffed out a laugh, “Well, at least it’s done now. And Smaug’s gone, so you don’t have to worry about cleaning up anything like that after today. I do hope that you two washed really, _really_ , well.”

‘ _We did_ ,’ Bifur signed, ‘ _There’s nothing left of the worm now, except his scales and skin, which we’ve used for other things. We cooked his meat and it wasn’t half bad._ ’

Bella stared at Bifur’s hands for a long moment before recovering, “You all _ate the dragon_?!”

“We had little choice, Bells,” Bofur explained, “Food was scarce during the first few months after the Battle. He tasted quite similar to chicken actually. Although we did all get rather sick of eating dragon-meat eventually, no matter how nicely Bombur and his cooks prepared it.”

Bella looked a bit green, “Needs must, I suppose. Although, I’m rather grateful for Lembas Bread now.”

“That’s Elfish, isn’t it?” Bofur asked.

“Mmm hmm,” Bella responded, as she turned to see to preparing a salad that would apparently have lots of berries and nuts in it, “It’s what I ate in Mordor. When I remembered to eat anyway.”

Bombur straightened immediately, “Have… have you started feeling hunger again yet, _Namad_?”

“No, but I only slept for seven hours last night,” Bella revealed, “Which is an improvement. My body’s healing, Bombur, it is.”

Bombur would not be satisfied until she was completely healed. He worried about her ankle too; he had not missed how she had wobbled on it briefly in Dale. He would mention it, discreetly so as not to upset Bella, who only barely tolerated her brothers fussing over her, to Óin so that the physician could look at it.

“So,” Bofur drawled then, “A little bird told me that you’re thinking of getting a tattoo.”

“I’m going to kill Nori,” Bella replied evenly, tossing the emerald leaves of the salad together with ruby-red raspberries, indigo blackberries, crispy chestnuts, and crunchy walnuts.

“I didn’t say it was Nori,” Bofur protested.

Bella raised an eyebrow at him, “You didn’t have to, brother dear. Yes, I’m getting an inking. I’ve already spoken to Óin about it. He’s going to do it tomorrow, after we gather the herbs he needs from the forest.”

“What are you getting?” Bofur asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Bella said primly, “Would you like some more milk, Bombur?”

“Yes please,” Bombur accepted the proffered drink heartily.

“Aw, c’mon, Óin knows,” Bofur said.

“Because he’s the one doing it,” Bella pointed out, “You’ll find out with everyone else.”

“I bet it’s a flower,” Bofur mused thoughtfully, “Or a cake, you like cakes.”

“ _Kunjâlmuzm_ _,_ ” Bifur suggested.

“Very funny,” Bella responded dryly, “I’m not going to tell you, so there’s no point in guessing.”

“I guess we’ll find out who wins the pot tomorrow then,” Bofur stated.

“You all placed a bet on what my inking is going to be?” Bella asked, “Seriously?”

“Oh, Bells, haven’t you figured out by now? We bet on _everything_ ,” Bofur answered.

************************************************************************

The food was, as Bombur had predicted it would be, quite amazing. He ate as much of it as he could, as had every other member of the Company. Bella had eaten a bit more than she usually did these days, to appease her brothers who watched her food intake warily, but the amount was still too small for Bombur’s liking.

Bombur had been a bit worried how Bella would handle having Thorin in her suite, since her sitting room had been designated as the location of the engagement party, but if Thorin’s presence made her uncomfortable, Bella was hiding it well. Even when the two found themselves almost entirely alone on a couch by the fire, which was dancing merrily in the hearth, much later that evening, Bella’s composure remained serene.

Because he was tucked into a nearby armchair, half-asleep, Bombur managed to overhear the conversation that followed between the two. He was instantly alert as soon as the first words fell from Thorin’s lips, though neither Thorin nor Bella realized that he was merely feigning slumber, watching the pair through half-lidded eyes.

“This was a very good idea,” Thorin murmured to Bella, admiration coloring his tone, “Though I’m not sure how you managed to convince Dori and Nori that Dwalin was good enough for their baby brother; I was half certain that I would have to issue a special edict forbidding the older brothers Ri from murdering my Master Captain.”

Bella huffed out a quiet laugh, “I simply reminded them that there are a great many clots in this world who would have no qualms about vying for Ori’s hand solely because of his looks. Dwalin loves him for far more than the turn of his face and Ori loves Dwalin for far more than his skills as a warrior. I’m so happy that they’ve managed to figure things out.”

“It was getting a bit ridiculous,” Thorin agreed, and he really was one to talk, Bombur thought, because could the king look any more love struck if he tried, “When did you know?”

“For certain?” Bella considered that briefly, oblivious to the affection Thorin was directing her way, “When Dwalin stepped between Ori and Bard’s bow, after we pulled ourselves out of that wretched river. I knew, definitively, then, though I’d begun to suspect at Beorn’s. They sought each other’s company out quite a lot while we were recovering there.”

“True,” Thorin inclined his head in agreement, “It took me longer, but, then, you always did understand the matters of the heart more clearly than I.”

Bella blinked up at Thorin in startled confusion, “Thorin-”

Bella and Thorin both started slightly as a loud thump drew their attention away from each other and toward the center of the room, where Glóin was dramatically bemoaning the loss of both his pride and a small bag of monies, having lost an arm wrestling contest against Nori, who looked undeniably smug about his victory as Bofur clapped him on the back. Glóin had obviously had far too much to drink as he would have never dared to challenge Nori in a sober state; Glóin knew well that the strength of the brothers Ri was no myth. It was amusing… and irritating, because Bella and Thorin had been _so close_ to figuring things out…

Bombur sighed, pretending to wake up, “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Glóin is drunk,” Bella announced, amused.

“Am not,” Glóin protested, his voice slurring just a bit, “It’s a poor dwarf that can’t hold his spirits, sister. I think I’ll have another.”

“Unfortunately, we’re fresh out,” Bella lied, “You should go to bed; I’m sure there will be more in the morning.”

“Well, alright,” Glóin agreed, “But it better not be any of that poncy wine that Thrandy-well drinks; only good dwarven mead should be drunk in this mountain.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” Bella promised, “It would certainly make things more interesting.”

“Aye!” Glóin declared as he stumbled out of Bella’s sitting room.

“Your rooms are the other way, Glóin,” Bella called after him.

“Of course they are!” Glóin shouted back.

Óin shook his head in the kind of fond exasperation that only a person with siblings could truly understand, “I’ll see that he gets to bed, goodnight everyone.”

To Bombur’s sincere regret, Bella and Thorin remained away from one another for the rest of the evening, keeping at least one other person in between them at all times. It was terribly frustrating, especially since Thorin, at least, seemed to be staying away from Bella deliberately.

It wasn’t malicious and Thorin certainly didn’t seem happy to be doing it. Resigned, was the way to describe it, and that damned stoic mask was back in place.

Did the stubborn bastard not want Bella to forgive him?

Actually, Bombur realized ruefully, that was probably the root of the problem. Thorin had to know, in his heart of hearts, that Bella would absolve him of every dark thing that had transpired between them during his brush with insanity if only he asked it of her. But he didn’t want her to pardon his actions, because he couldn’t let go of his guilt. Thorin probably believed that he was protecting Bella by keeping her at a distance.

It was noble… and stupid. In other words, it so quintessentially _Thorin_ that it made Bombur want to weep and knock his king in the head at the same time. Because Thorin was so very _wrong_. Bella needed him; that much had become blatantly obvious.

Gimli had told Fíli that Bella needed love to heal from what the Ring had done to her, but it was clear that brotherly love was not quite enough. Being with her brothers, seeing Tauriel, was helping, of course it was, and she seemed less diminished with every day that passed, but Bella would never be the bright, confident sprite she’d been in the few days following Thorin’s proposal in Lake Town, would never be _whole_ , without Thorin’s love.

A part of Bombur wondered, would always wonder, if the Ring could have hurt Bella as much as did if she’d had the Company, if she’d had Thorin, by her side as she marched through the Wildes and into Mordor. He suspected the answer was ‘no’ and that broke his heart, just a little.

************************************************************************

The following day was unseasonably warm, which suited Óin, and Bella, just fine as the nice weather would make gathering herbs all the easier.

“It hasn’t been easy,” Óin told Bella, as they trekked across the southern side of the Lonely Mountain, a small band of Dáin’s dwarrows trailing behind them both to safeguard and assist, “Finding any significant amounts of medicinal plant life during the autumn months, it gets cooler here faster than it did in the Blue Mountains, but I did manage to locate a fairly large patch of lavender last week that I’d like to be collected and stored; it should last us through most of the winter. Mixed into a tea, lavender can calm nerves, bathing in lavender water can ease pain, and it can stave off infection when mashed into a paste. It was around here somewhere, growing amidst a sizable quantity of another flower, one I couldn’t identify, unfortunately. Ah! Here’s the patch.”

Óin watched as Bella’s eyes lit up in delight at the sight of the purple and silver flowers that were growing in large clusters here and there. Just standing amongst the blossoms seemed to induce her demeanor to brighten considerably. Spring could not come quickly enough, Óin determined, because Bella deserved to be surrounded by the blooms that invoked such pleasure in her countenance everyday.

“Silver Amaranth,” Bella spoke in a loud, clear voice, her fingers lightly petting a stalk of the silvery flowers that Óin had been unable to name, even after paying a visit to the Great Library, “This is marvelous, _Nadad_.”

“It is?” Óin tilted his head to accent the question.

“Silver Amaranth can be harvested as a grain,” Bella revealed, excited, “We can make a thin, white bread from it and a type of sweet called _Llawenydd_.”

“Llawenydd?” Óin echoed, well aware that he had butchered the pronunciation quite completely.

“It’s Greentongue,” Bella illuminated, “It means ‘joy’. It’s a type of oak cake, made by mixing the popped grains of the plant with honey, sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds. It’s very good. There’s enough Silver Amaranth here to last until spring comes.”

“We’ll gather it as well then,” Óin decided, ushering their helpers forward and instructing, “Bind the lavender and amaranth into tight bundles, lads. Separately, don’t mix them together. This will be an enormous help, especially if anything happens to the convoys coming from Rohan and Gondor. The Wildes are dangerous still, even with the Dark Lord gone.”

Bella nodded, “I imagine that Saruman will do everything he can to make this winter difficult for us.”

“Don’t you go blaming yourself for that, lassie,” Óin counseled her, “It will not serve you. Saruman would likely be doing his best to make our lives difficult even if you were not living here.”

“But my living here ensures it,” Bella remarked in a dry tone and then sighed, almost inaudibly to Óin ears, “Were there any other plants you’ve found growing around this part of the Mountain?”

“Weeds,” Óin told her, “At least that’s what I perceived them to be. You’re welcome to take a look around, as long as you stay in sight.”

“I will,” Bella promised, swinging the woven basket she’d brought with her slightly as she moved off.

The dwarrows were halfway finished with the harvesting by the time that Bella wandered back over to Óin’s side, her basket full to the brim with Red Clovers.

Óin raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“Red Clovers have been used in the Shire for generations to increase fertility,” Bella told him and then expounded on the topic as she lifted the basket so that he could examine the plants more closely, “Most Hobbit women drink a tea distilled from the clovers to augment their chances of having multiple children at once. It will not reverse natural barrenness, but you mentioned that many dwarrowdams have problems getting and staying pregnant and I thought that this might help, a bit.”

“If even one dwarrowdam delivers a healthy babe because of this plant, it will be an enormous blessing,” Óin assured her.

Bella blushed, “Red raspberry leaves can do the same, mixing the two creates a potent fertility draught, but we’ll have to wait until summer for that.”

“You are such a gift, _Namadith_ ,” Óin praised, “And a priceless one at that.”

************************************************************************

“Can we see it now?” Bofur asked, bouncing a little bit in excitement.

“See what?” Bella asked, purposely making her tone innocent and demure.

“Your inking, of course!” Bofur exclaimed.

Bella took in the sight of all her brothers, save Óin, looking ridiculously eager to know what she had chosen to have tattooed on her body, “You all are the epitome of reserved patience.”

“ _Bél_ ,” Kíli whined, pouting at her and pulling her down into his lap so that she couldn’t escape the room.

Bella giggled and rolled up her sleeve to reveal the inside of her right wrist to them, sitting right above the bracelet Fíli had given to her.

“That’s…” Glóin trailed off.

“The rune that Gandalf left on the door to Bag End,” Fíli finished for him.

“It was this mark that brought all of you into my life,” Bella explained softly, “It changed everything. Without this rune, I wouldn’t have all of you.”

Kíli squeezed her tightly, peppering her hair with light kisses, “It led us to you… remind me to thank Gandalf again, when I see him next.”

“Why your wrist?” Ori questioned, taking her wrist into his hand and gently tracing the raised silver mark.

“So I can see it whenever I want,” Bella elucidated, “Especially when I use Sting.”

“Sting?” Nori inquired.

“I’ve only ever had one reason to use my letter opener,” Bella said, “And that reason is to defend my family.”

************************************************************************

It was customary, in the Shire, to give other people presents on one’s birthday. This was done to illustrate how grateful an individual was for their family and friends, how thankful they were to be alive. This particular tradition was not one that was practiced by any other race that inhabited Arda, least of all the dwarrows of Erebor, who were of the firm belief that a person was to be spoiled rotten on the anniversary of their birth, a way for family and friends to show how grateful they were to have said person in their lives. Fortunately for Bella, she had already spent one birthday amidst her dwarven kin, her thirty-seventh, and so she knew to expect the fuss that was going to be made over her when September the twenty-second dawned.

She had already prepared the gifts for her brothers, sister, Sigrid, Bain, Tilda, and Thorin, though she wasn’t entirely sure how the last would feel about receiving anything from her, and had them all delivered early that morning. Her brothers and sister received beads carved from jade with tiny dragons etched onto them. Sigrid received a silver hair brush covered in butterflies shaped out of moonstone, (twisting the handle of the brush would reveal a slender dagger with a wickedly sharp blade). Bain got a selection of arrowheads crafted from the teeth of wargs and Tilda was sent a puzzle box full of candies and colored wax chunks that could be used as draw utensils. Thorin’s gift was stationary embossed with ravens in flight; Bella had purchased the thick, glossy paper in Gondor on an impulse because it had reminded her of Thorin.

She had not the means to send presents to her friends whom were battling for her sake in the south, so Bella was forced to content herself with sending them her prayers and best wishes.

Following breakfast, in which all of Bella’s favorite dishes were prepared, Glóin dragged her all across the Mountain while the rest of her brothers put the finishing touches on _something_. Bella wasn’t sure what this something was, but she knew, because she knew her brothers, that it was sure to be extravagant and over the top.

It was just past luncheon when Kíli approached her with a smirk and a blindfold.

“The last time I let you blindfold me,” Bella reminded, vividly recalling the one and only game of blind man’s bluff that Fíli and Kíli had managed to talk her into, “I fell into a lake.”

“There are no lakes in the mountain,” Kíli assured.

“That’s technically not true,” Ori interjected, “There’s quite a large lake that the cold springs lead into and three of the public bathing pools could be considered small lakes once they’re finished being prepared.”

“None of which we’re leading Bella anywhere near,” Kíli pointed out.

“If I run into a wall,” Bella warned without heat, “I won’t bake you any cookies for a month, Kee.”

“No walls or lakes,” Kíli promised, fixing the blindfold to cover her eyes and then taking her hands in his.

Bella allowed him to lead her, confident in his ability to keep her from harm than despite her teasing. It didn’t take long to reach their destination, though they had to climb several flights of stairs to do so. Bella frowned as fresh air hit her, because they certainly hadn’t gone through the gates, and then the blindfold fell away and Bella gasped at the sight that greeted her.

It was a garden, one that was, admittedly, currently devoid of that which made a garden a garden, namely green life, but it held the promise of one day becoming the single most beautiful garden that Bella had ever known. And that included the ones in Rivendell and the Greenwood that were so lauded.

A babbling brook cut the space in half, separating the sections meant for flowers and small trees from those meant for vegetables and berry bushes. There was an enormous greenhouse in one corner, fashioned entirely out of crystal and gold, and geometric-shaped beehive in another. There was a cool cave where mushrooms could flourish, situated next to the little pond where the brook ended. There was a terrace up above, reached by ascending a spiraling staircase, and it was so easy to imagine ivy spilling over the edges. On the terrace was a place to sit and drink tea and read and soak up the sun, big enough for the whole company, of course, and dozens of little herb boxes.

The space was situated in the perfect spot, getting just enough sunlight to ensure that the plants that would grow within it would flourish, and the entire thing was encased in a net of silver, extra protection to guarantee that this would be a safe place for Bella to come to.

“You built me a garden,” Bella managed to say, tears spilling down her cheeks and catching in the creases of her smile.

“We wanted you to have something to look forward to,” Fíli revealed, “During the winter months. It can get very dark and cold.”

“It’s a very good thing that I have such amazing brothers then,” Bella replied, her gaze moving away from the wonderful promise of a garden to the even more wonderful dwarrows who had created it for her, “Isn’t it? Neither the dark nor the cold can touch me as long as I have you.”

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Kunjâlmuzm_ – Bunny
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother
  * _Llawenydd_ – Joy



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My version of Green Tongue is actually Welsh; I thought it was appropriate because the Welsh language is beautiful. Llawenydd is a tribute to Alegría, a treat made from Amaranth.


	6. Part the Sixth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Threatened Non-con, nothing actually happens or will happen, for that matter

**_Chapter Six_ **

Fíli had warned Bofur, along with the rest of the Company, that there were dwarrows in the Mountain who had expressed an interest in courting Bella. Bofur hadn’t been surprised, Bella was a beautiful and brave young lady with a kind and generous heart, but he had been irritated by the information. As far as Bofur was concerned, there wasn’t a dwarrow alive who deserved his sister’s heart, not even the dwarf whom she had irrevocably given it away to. Bofur would serve and protect his King to his last breath, of course, but when it came to picking sides, he would always be on Bella’s.

Bella, whom half the dwarves in the Mountain had fallen a bit in love with.

Dwalin had meant to garner respect for their sister with the stunt he had encouraged her to pull during training, and he had, but his decision had also born consequences that he had not intended. The dwarrows had seen a warrior princess in Bella, as they rightly should have, one who was willing to do impossible things for the sake of her kin, who could fight, who had publicly forgiven that which few others would have, and who considered the needs of a people not her own by birth to be imperative. They had seen and begun to want.

Matters certainly weren’t helped by the sheer exoticness that she excluded in her manner of dress. Women of every race, including Hobbits, tended to wear dresses on all occasions; Bella only wore dresses when she absolutely had to, a trait that had made her unique even before she had left the Shire. Her ability to confidently wear trousers and waistcoats, for all that they were feminine in design, made her stand out in ways that even a dwarrowdam in lush skirts that were dripping in gems would not. Add to that the fact that the clothes had been painstakingly crafted to ensure that Bella’s status as royalty could not be misconstrued, despite the lack of precious stones adorning the garb, and there was little chance of Bella going unnoticed by anyone.

Take the outfit she was currently wearing, for instance. Golden brown trousers made of thick muslin were paired with a high-necked, burgundy-colored silk shirt that had three-tiered puffed sleeves. Atop the shirt was a gold and claret waistcoat of velvet brocade sewn to resemble oak leaves. Bella’s hair was a cascade of thin braids that were pinned up by a golden oak leaf and she wore brown and gold boots on her feet. Her mithril coat was surely tucked under her shirt, though Bofur was one of the privileged few to know that.

All in all, she looked like autumn incarnate. Powerful and breathtakingly gorgeous.

Few dwarrowdams carried swords strapped to their hips everywhere they went either, preferring daggers and knives to bulky weapons as they went about their everyday lives; Sting never left Bella’s side and that was noticed as well. A warrior princess, indeed.

Bofur had no issue with how Bella chose to dress; he would never even dare assume that he even had the right to take issue with it. It made Bella happy and so that was that. If it meant he and the rest of her brothers had to worry about upstart dwarves who cared more about the turn of Bella’s face and her fame than her heart, well, that was a price that they agreed to pay to keep her happy.

Nothing would come of it, Bofur was sure, because Bella was incapable of even entertaining the idea of being with anyone but Thorin Oakenshield, for all that the King didn’t deserve her; the fool hadn’t even apologized to her for Mahal’s sake! And when it came to those who might try to force her to accept them… that was what Nori and his Shadow Shields were around for; to rid the Mountain of any and all threats to the royal family. Nori would ensure they were dead long before they could attempt to coerce their little sister into anything.

What bothered Bofur the most about the situation, in all actuality, was how uncomfortable being objectified, because that’s what all the idiots who coveted her without knowing her were doing, made Bella. If the placid mask she wore as they toured the Guild Halls had not clued Bofur in to this fact, the way she pressed close to his side, clenching her fingers around the sleeve of his jacket, certainly did. Bella’s obvious distress spurred Bofur into increasing their pace and cutting their exploration short; the Guild Halls would be much more interesting after the caravans from the Blue Mountains arrived anyway.

They couldn’t reach the Gilded Toy Chest quickly enough, but reach it they did. It was tucked into the dead center of the Western Quarter of Erebor’s Royal Bazaar, and fashioned out of a green and blue stone, much like all the shops in this particular section of the Bazaar. Bofur and Bifur had chosen this spot because of the stone; it looked cheerful, in a way, which was perfect for a toy shop. The Gilded Toy Chest was, currently, the only shop prepping for business, as the few others who wished to open stores had chosen places in the Southern and Eastern Quarters.

Bofur was very proud of the lovely space that he and his cousin had created, and so he was delighted by the childlike wonder that washed over Bella’s features the moment she caught sight of the hundreds of toys lining the walls and shelves. Most of the toys had been hand-carved from various types of wood and then painted or set with tiny chips of gems, but a fair number had also been fashioned out of metal, mostly tin although there were a few tucked inside reinforced glass cases that were made of silver and gold, and there was a small collection of crystal figurines too.

“They’re fairies!” Bella exclaimed happily, catching sight of the crystal, “Oh, Bo, they’re incredible. Everything is. You and Bifur are going to have a time keeping up with the demand once you open.”

“We plan on hiring a few other dwarrows to help us,” Bofur told her, “We have friends coming from the Blue Mountains, ones who have skill in toy making, that have already agreed to come work for us. Two of them are skilled with making plush toys, so we’ll be selling those too, eventually.”

“You’ve done an amazing job, already,” Bella praised, and then she trailed her fingers across the edge of a low table in the center of the shop, “What is this? What are all of the little drawers around it for?”

“It’s a puzzle,” Bofur explained, reaching over to demonstrate how one could slide the intricately carved pieces on the surface of the table either horizontally or vertically, “A game for the dwarflings to play. The point is to unlock one of the drawers in under five minutes’ time; if they do, they get to keep the prize that is inside.”

“That’s generous of you,” Bella smiled.

“We can afford to be now,” Bofur said, “The puzzle game will help bring more customers into the store too. Oh, I have something for you, by the way.”

“You all are going to spoil me rotten within a year if you keep it up,” Bella teased.

“That’s what brothers are for, Bells,” Bofur insisted as he retrieved a bundle of green paper from behind the counter and passed it over to her, “I made this during the period of time that we thought… well.”

Bella unwrapped the bundle carefully, smoothing the paper down, and then gasped as she saw the little crystal fairy perched atop a blooming rose, a honeysuckle dangling from the fairy’s tiny hands. The fairy had strawberry-blonde curls, eyes fashioned from chips of aquamarine, glittering amethyst wings, and was wearing silver trousers and a lavender waistcoat. It was more than obvious that Bofur had based the figurine off of his sister.

“Oh, Bofur,” Bella looked at him, unshed tears making her blue-green eyes sparkle in the light of the shop’s lamps, “It’s _beautiful_. I’m afraid to touch it.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Bofur assured, “We designed all the toys to withstand the rough play of dwarflings; the crystal will not shatter easily.”

Still, when Bella lifted up the figurine, which was just slightly smaller than her palm, she cradled it in her hands as if it was something immeasurably precious, “Thank you, Bo.”

“You’re welcome, _Namadith_ ,” Bofur replied, grinning widely, “How about we grab lunch from the kitchens and then head to Dale?”

“Yes, alright,” Bella agreed, “I want to drop this off in my rooms before we leave for Dale, though. I don’t want anything happening to it.”

“As you wish,” Bofur acquiesced.

************************************************************************

Bella and Bofur had not quite made it to the Royal Wing when they were approached by panting dwarf who gasped out, “Lord Bofur, there’s a problem in the Diamond Mines; a section gave way. Prince Fíli needs to see you immediately.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Bofur assured the harried-looking dwarrow who seemed to be trying desperately to catch his breath, “I just need to escort my sister to the Royal Wing first.”

“Is he alright?” Bella asked, worried.

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” the dwarf assured, “Dwarves are natural sprinters.”

“I can escort her to the Royal Wing,” Thorin announced, having approached the three of them from behind.

Bella turned to look at him and blinked in surprise. He was not dressed as he usually was, in blue and silver, but in dark shades of green and ebony. He still looked like a king, though the garb was less adorned than usual. It was very similar to how Kíli preferred to dress, though Bella’s brother favored silver hues over black. It was a very good look on Thorin; he seemed less the unapproachable King Under the Mountain like this.

“Okay,” Bofur nodded, “We’ll probably have to put off Dale until tomorrow, Bells. The last time a section collapsed it took several hours to sort it out.”

“You need to go to Dale?” Thorin asked Bella.

“Want is probably the more accurate term,” Bella rejoined, “There are spices that I was going to purchase; Ori found recipes in the library that call for some rare types of seasoning from the east and traders from that region arrived yesterday.”

“I can take you,” Thorin offered, surprising Bella. “If they arrived yesterday then by tomorrow their supply will have reduced significantly.”

“If… if you don’t mind,” Bella replied, “Then that would be lovely.”

“I don’t mind,” Thorin assured.

“I’ll see you later then,” Bella informed Bofur, who looked a cross between confused and concerned.

“Right,” Bofur agreed charily, “Be careful.”

It very clearly was a warning, not to Bella, but to Thorin, one laced with, in Bella’s opinion, excessive severity.

“Of course,” Thorin agreed in a grave tone.

************************************************************************

They didn’t ask any guards to accompany them for the short walk to Dale - which turned out to be a very big mistake on their part.

The ambush was perfectly executed, the men struck just as they rounded the bend that put them out of sight of Erebor’s sentries, just before the turn that would allow Dale’s to see them. In one heartbeat, Bella and Thorin were alone on the road, and in the next they had crossbows pointed at their chests.

“Well, well,” the Master of Lake-town, for it was the Master of Lake-town, for all that he appeared to be greatly diminished since Bella had last seen him, hiding during the Battle of the Five Armies, emerged from the woods to their left, “Look what I’ve caught. The King Under the Mountain and the Sunrise Princess.”

He was much thinner than he had been back then, and the clothes he was wearing were threadbare, a stark contrast to the opulent robes he had worn in the days before the Battle. He also had a thick scar marring the right side of his face and neck.

“Don’t shout, don’t try to run, or I’ll be inclined to have my men shoot you both,” the Master advised, “Surrender your swords, _now_.”

Bella looked at Thorin and, at his jerky nod, unbuckled Sting’s holster and passed it over to the nearest man.

“Let the Princess go,” Thorin snapped as he allowed Orcrist to be snatched away by the Master, “You have me, you do not need her.”

“Having you guarantees me nothing from Erebor,” the Master contradicted, “You’ll have given orders to your people to deny anyone who takes you the ransom they ask for. The halfling, on the other hand, is worth her weight in gold a thousand times over. She was the target, not you. Capturing you, this day, oh King, was simply a lovely turn of fate.”

“She saved your life, you ungrateful swine,” Thorin fired back.

“I’m very grateful,” the Master denied, “I’m even more grateful that she is going to make me one of the richest men in Arda.”

“Let Thorin go,” Bella attempted.

“I don’t think so,” the Master countered, “It wasn’t my intention to catch him today, the rumor was that you were heading to Dale with one of members of your precious Company.”

Bella’s eyes widened at that slip; someone in Erebor had sold them out. Bella looked over at Thorin and saw that he had realized this as well. There was a traitor within the Mountain.

“But now that I have him,” the Master was still speaking, “I fully intend to capitalize on it. I’m going to kill you, Thorin Oakenshield, slowly, painfully, for what you did to me. Because of you, I’ve lost the respect of my people, nearly all of them have left Esgaroth now, have pledged themselves to that bastard _Bard_.”

“You never had the respect of your people,” Thorin spat at him, “They hated you!”

“They feared me!” the Master retorted, “Now, I’m barely more than a laughingstock! The men with me now are the only ones left that are loyal to me. I’m going to kill you, but not before I make you witness the death of your halfling and your nephews.” The Master regarded Bella with a leer, “She’s very pretty, perhaps I’ll taste for myself why you are so enamored with her before I slit her throat.”

Thorin roared, wrath plainly writ upon his features, and he swung ferociously at the Master, who barely dodged him.

One of the Master’s soldiers lowered his crossbow, grasped Bella by the throat with stunning speed, and squeezed, making her gasp. Thorin froze, looking horrified at the sight, and the fight abandoned him at once. Two more soldiers grabbed his arms and the man holding Bella dropped her; she collapsed to her knees, heaving for breath, her hands curling into the muddied road.

“Bind his hands,” the Master ordered, “And gag him as well; I don’t want to risk any hunters hearing him as we move through the woods.”

The soldiers forced Thorin’s hands in front of him, wrapping thick twine around his wrists and knotting it tightly. A ragged strip of cloth was slipped between his lips and tied securely at the back of his head, effectively muffling his voice.

Bella used the brief distraction to slip her left hand surreptitiously into the pocket of her trousers, her fingers closing around the fairy she had forgotten to place inside her suite. Carefully, Bella pushed the figurine deep into the mire beneath her, until only the very tip of it was showing. The way she had positioned it, only someone who knew the difference between the sun glinting off of slick mud and a gemstone would pay any heed to it; only a miner or a jeweler would see the sparkle and think it strange, would realize that it was just a fraction too bright to be a random speck in the sludge.

The Company would tear apart the surrounding land in their search for Bella and Thorin; they would find the fairy hidden in the soft earth. They would see and understand why it was pointed north toward the woods. They would find their sister and their king… and then the disgraced Master of Lake-town would learn why a band of only fifteen had been able to bring down a dragon without the help of anyone else.

“Let’s move,” the Master ordered, “We’ve dallied long enough.”

Bella was jerked roughly to her feet, eliciting a furious growl from Thorin. She met his eyes, and was startled by how very blue they seemed in that moment, lit from within with a righteous anger. He must have believed her surprise was something more akin to fear, because he snarled again and tried to lunge toward her.

The Master grabbed Thorin by his hair and jerked his head up, raising Orcrist and placing it at Thorin’s exposed throat, “I am this close to just killing you now.”

_Orcrist cleaved Thorin’s head from his shoulders, blood splattering everywhere._

“No,” Bella cried as remnants from that terrible nightmare flashed before her, and she jerked wildly against the tight grip of the soldier who held her, “Please!”

“Gag her too,” the Master barked, lowering Orcrist, “Quickly!”

His soldiers obeyed, lashing her hands together as well for good measure, and then Bella was shoved forward. Thorin reached out, his bound hands gripping hers briefly, gentle despite his obvious ire, before they were torn apart and forced to march into the woods.

************************************************************************

It was just past three when the Company realized that Bella and Thorin had never made it to Dale.

The section collapse in the Diamond Mines had been less of a setback and more of a happy accident; once the fallen rocks had been cleared away a rather large chamber full of blue diamonds, a resource thought to have been exhausted in Erebor long ago, had been discovered.

Fíli had immediately dispatched messengers to go fetch Thorin and Bella from Dale, because this was fairly important news and the King needed to know at once, only to have the couriers return, sans his uncle and sister, an hour later with news that made his blood run cold. Somehow, Bella and Thorin had vanished before ever reaching the gates of the other kingdom.

The alarm was sounded immediately and Fíli had all of the Company, plus Dáin, gathered together in a ridiculously short amount of time.

Balin had to stay behind, to monitor the affairs of the kingdom, but the rest of them exited Erebor on a warpath, scouring the road for clues as to how two members of the royal family could simply disappear. Fíli was going to line every inch of Bella’s clothing with bells and he was going to chain Thorin to his throne. What in Mahal’s name had they been thinking, leaving Erebor without protection? Alright, so that was typical of Thorin, but he had let _Bella_ leave the Mountain without guards and that… that was unacceptable. Never mind that Bella probably hadn’t considered the lack of guards to be an issue either; there were going to be so many fucking bells.

It took thirty minutes of desperate searching before he noticed it. Just there, there was something glinting in the muddy road in a way that wasn’t typical of mud at all. Fíli trotted over to the area, knelt down, and carefully scooped out the object that had been buried just beneath the surface. It was made of crystal, it was a fairy made of crystal actually, he realized, as he brushed the muck off of it. The craftsmanship was exquisite; the figurine was clearly dwarven made. And the little fairy… it looked like Bél with wings.

“That’s Bella’s,” Bofur spoke up urgently from Fíli’s side, his eyes wide, “I gave it to her just this morning.”

“Why would she bury it?” Dáin asked, perplexed. “Is that a Hobbit custom, to bury gifts?”

“She didn’t just bury it,” Nori replied in a scathing tone that would have gotten him in trouble in any other situation but this, “She _planted_ it for us to find. Clever, _Namad_ , very clever.”

“It was pointing into the woods,” Fíli revealed, unable to look away from the fairy. It hadn’t broken, it still glistened in the sunlight. Fíli hoped that was a good omen.

“Whoever took them must have forced them in there.” Kíli said, “Bél’s managed to tell us exactly which way to go.”

“She did outwit a dragon,” Dwalin commented, with just a hint of pride in his voice, “It would be nothing for to get the better off some halfwit kidnapper.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go get them back!” Glóin declared, incensed, “And make the fucking bastards who dared to steal our King and little sister pay.”

“Yes,” Fíli agreed, turning to look upon the Company, anger stirring in his heart in an almost barbaric way, “We take no prisoners; not for an offense like this. Every single person who laid a hand on them is already dead.”

************************************************************************

The accommodations that the Master of Lake-town provided Bella and Thorin were significantly inferior to the ones he had provided the year before, and even those had not exactly been inspired, truth be told. The ropes and gags had been removed and then the pair had been locked in the basement of a decrepit house some twenty miles within the woods; chained by their wrists to walls directly across from one another. Bella couldn’t have picked the locks on the cuffs, even had her lock picks not been sitting on the counter of her bathroom, forgotten in her rush to get dressed that morning, because her arms were spread wide against the cold stone at her back; there was no where near enough slack.

The Company had to know they were missing by now, Bella and Thorin had been made to walk for seven hours straight before they’d reached the house and the sun had been low in the sky when they’d been forced into it.

“Bofur is going to kill me,” Thorin sighed.

A single candle had been left burning in the basement; an oversight on the part of their captors, not an act of compassion. The light that emanated from was dim but sufficient enough for Bella to notice something very strange indeed just as she was about to contradict that statement.

“That’s my hair,” Bella blinked at Thorin, bemused, staring at the exposed skin caused by the pull of the cuff, “You’re… wearing my hair around your wrist. And that’s the betrothal bead you gave me.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, rather obviously not pleased that she’d noticed it.

“ _Why_ are you wearing my hair and bead around your wrist?” Bella demanded, because first he’d been furiously protective of her person and now he was _wearing her hair_ and that didn’t make any _sense_.

“It’s a reminder,” Thorin revealed.

“A reminder,” Bella echoed in disbelief, “That’s… that’s more than a bit morbid, Thorin.”

“Perhaps, but one should never be allowed to forget the day that he nearly murdered his heart in a rage induced by gold lust,” Thorin commented bitterly, staring at the ground instead of at her, “The day he was foolish enough to throw away the most precious, beautiful gift that he could ever be given for the sake of a damned _stone_.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“The Arkenstone is the Heart of the Mountain and I stole it and gave it to those you considered to be your enemies,” Bella reminded softly, “I may have good reasons but-”

“You took a _trinket_ ,” Thorin disagreed, “I’m the one who nearly destroyed the true Heart of Erebor. When I recovered myself, when I realized that you were gone, most likely dead, I locked the Arkenstone away… because I could not stand the sight of it, not when you were lost to me. I would have destroyed it had Dáin not still been in the Mountain, I came to hate it so much.”

“If you wanted me back,” Bella questioned, her voice thick with a hope she could not quell, “Then why did you keep me away once you knew I was alive?”

“I knew that the farther away from me you were, the safer you would be,” Thorin murmured, “I hurt you, the one person that I should have protected and cherished above all others, and I hurt you. The gold-sickness is gone, but everyday I fear its return; I fear the damage that could be wrought through me if it did come back. I didn’t want to risk allowing you to return until I could be sure that it was gone permanently. But then, Gandalf told me that there was a far greater threat than I that had his eye fixed upon you… and I knew that keeping you away from Erebor would no longer be the safer option for you, Bella.”

“Thorin,” Bella all but whispered, afraid of her voice breaking should she speak any louder, “Why didn’t you tell me all of this before now?”

“I nearly did,” Thorin said, “The night of the engagement party. I almost confessed everything to you then, but…”

“But?” Bella prompted

“I can not ask for your forgiveness,” Thorin declared solemnly, “Because there is no circumstance in which I shall ever deserve it.”

He was an idiot… and so was she. And it was far past time to remedy that.

“Too bad,” Bella remarked, “Because you already have it; I forgave you before I ever left for Lothlórien.”

Thorin looked at her then, his face pale and his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “Bella, you can’t-”

“Would you like to know why I agreed to come to Erebor?” Bella cut him off before he could finish, “I believed Dáin, when he told me that you and my brothers wanted nothing at all to do with me. I was sure, despite Gandalf’s insistence to the contrary, that you all would only tolerate my presence in Erebor at best, but I came anyway. I came because of a nightmare; one that the Lady Galadriel told me could be more than just a bad dream, so much more. I saw you dying and the possibility of that… it was more than I could bear. So I packed up my things and let Gandalf drop me off at the Secret Door, because I couldn’t allow that dream to become reality even if you had all hated me. I came to Erebor because I love you, I will always love you, even when you’re being an idiot.”

Thorin looked wrecked, “Oh, Bella, I could never hate you, _never_. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I have never regretted anything as I regret my words and deeds at the Gates and I’m sorry, _Ghivashel_.”

“I’ve missed hearing that,” Bella said.

“I’ll say it and more every day for the rest of our lives if you wish it,” Thorin vowed, “ _Ghivashel_. _Amrâlimê_. _Madtubirzul_. I love you, more than anything.”

“I do wish it, for however long our lives are,” Bella replied.

“We are not going to die here,” Thorin swore, “We’ll get out of this, Bella, believe me.”

“I do,” Bella assured him, “I’ve never doubted your strength, Thorin, even while you were under the thrall of the gold. I knew you would overcome it.”

“Not my strength, just my love for you,” Thorin intoned miserably.

Bella winced, just a bit, “No more than you doubted mine.”

“Yes,” Thorin conceded, “I did doubt it… I doubted and that doubt left room for sickness to take root within my mind.”

“You conquered the illness, Thorin,” Bella stated.

“Because of you,” Thorin told her, “Fíli came to me, told me that orcs had arrived, that a great battle was about to be waged before our Mountain and suddenly all I could think about was the fact that I had forced you out of the safety of the Kingdom and into a situation where you had little chance of survival. The spell that the gold had cast over me broke in that moment.”

“Why do you fear falling under it again?” Bella questioned.

“Because I can feel it, pulling at me, _every single day_ ,” Thorin admitted, looking horribly ashamed, “I fear even walking near the Treasury.”

“Gandalf said…” Bella bit her lip for a moment and then continued, “Gandalf once told me that there is no force in this world more powerful than love. Maybe… maybe the reason you still feel the pull of the gold is because you’re going about this the wrong way. You isolated yourself the first time, when we first reclaimed the Mountain, and look where that led. Your refusal to be with the Company except when they force you to join them isn’t going to help you, Thorin. They love you, I love you, but as long as you push us away, we will not be able to help you.”

“You cannot be sure of that.”

“I most certainly can, Thorin,” Bella contradicted firmly. “I know what love is capable of. It drove a Hobbit who nothing of the world across all of Arda and right up the slopes of Mount Doom. The Ring found no purchase in my mind or heart because nothing it had to offer meant more to me than the thirteen dwarves that I was destroying it for.

“You are the most amazing creature to ever exist, Bella Mira,” Thorin returned, his eyes full of a reverent wonder that made her blush. Thorin shifted then, the chains securing him to the wall rattling as he strained against them, “I wish I was able to hold you.”

Bella smiled, “You can hold me all you like once we’re out of this, _Khaeluh_.”

“I’ll never let you go again,” Thorin warned her, his words as solemn as an oath.

“I won’t ever want you to,” Bella promised.

“If it doesn’t work,” Thorin whispered fearfully, “If the pull of the gold doesn’t fade…”

“I will _not_ let you fall under the thrall again,” Bella announced, resolute, “That’s my oath to you, Thorin.”

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Ghivashel_ – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
  * _Amrâlimê_ _– Love of Me_
  * _Madtubirzul_ – Golden Heart
  * _Khaeluh_ – My Wolf
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part won't be up until Tuesday at the earliest.


	7. Part the Seventh

**_Chapter Seven_ **

Thorin was an unmitigated arse.

He deserved to have his hair shorn and his crown stripped away. He deserved the scorn, and hatred, and disgust of his people and kin. He deserved to have been struck down during the Battle of the Five Armies.

What he most certainly did not deserve was the heart of Bella Mira Baggins and the unconditional, unfathomable, unyielding love that came with it. And yet, it was his. She loved him, despite everything that he had done, despite how deeply he had wounded her, she loved him still.

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, was not worth the flesh and bones that had been used to make him.

But despite that, he was loved. Loved by the most beautiful creature to ever grace the world; surely Yavanna must have used beams of pure sunlight when she crafted her most courageous and clever daughter. Bella was a treasure with no equal and Thorin had treated her as if she were nothing; she should have hated him, despised him. Thorin would not have blamed her if she had.

She didn’t hate him though, no, she had _forgiven_ him. She had risked being heartbroken all over again, had come to Erebor terrified that she would not find the love she desperately needed from kin, simply because she could not condone any harm befalling Thorin, even if just in a nightmare.

Mahal, how he wished he could hold her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go; he wanted to keep her tucked against him always, safe from the horrors of the world. It was a cruel tactic, ensuring that Thorin and Bella could see one another, would be able to hear each other’s cries of pain if the Master wished to get creative, but were unable to comfort each other through touch. He had to get Bella out of here, even if it killed him. Thorin strained against his chains again, sensing a slight weakness in the metal of the left one, but not one that would be easy to exploit.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Bella chided, concern for him swimming in her aquamarine eyes. Her eyes were so beautiful, living gemstones that sparkled in the dim light.

“Not significantly,” Thorin assured her.

Bella huffed and rolled her eyes, tone exasperated and carrying a hint of desperate fear, “I would rather you not hurt yourself at all, Thorin.”

“The dream you had, it truly frightened you,” Thorin commented lightly.

“Yes,” Bella inhaled deeply, “I was running through the Royal Wing, I didn’t realize it when I had the dream but… it _was_ the Royal Wing. There was a pair of doors, with a dragon upon them, and past them was your study. A group of dwarrows… killed you with Orcrist. They had curled black beards.”

“Blacklocks,” Thorin stated in surprise.

“That’s what Galadriel told me,” Bella continued, “Right before informing me that it might have been more than a simple nightmare, despite my being prone to such.”

“The doors to my study have no dragon upon them,” Thorin soothed, “And, as far I am concerned, never shall. I receive enough reminders _daily_ about Smaug, I do not wish for more.”

“I know,” Bella confided quietly, “That was one of the things that I checked during the first night I was back.”

“How did you get into my rooms?” Thorin questioned, a bit stupidly, in retrospect.

“I snuck past legions of orcs to get to Mount Doom,” Bella retorted, less subdued, “I am more than capable of sneaking past a handful of guards.”

“Perhaps you should join the Shadow Shields,” Thorin suggested wryly.

Bella snorted delicately, “As if Nori would let me. Fíli and Dori would probably never let me leave the Royal Wing again if I so much as suggested it.”

“You think that Kíli would?”

“Kíli has Tauriel to beat sense into him,” Bella rejoined, “Fíli does not… although he may, perhaps, have someone to fill that position soon enough.”

“You mean Sigrid,” Thorin deduced.

“You knew?” Bella blinked at him.

“There is very little that goes on within my mountain that I do not know about,” Thorin replied, “Least of all _secret sword lessons_ between my heir and the eldest princess of Dale behind closed doors.”

Bella winced, “Okay, so it sounds fairly inappropriate when you put it that way. But they really are just training.”

“I made sure of that,” Thorin told her, “How did you know?”

Bella blushed a bit, “It, er, might have been my idea.”

Thorin’s eyebrows shot up at that admission though, in truth, he was less shocked than he could have been.

“Bard was being difficult,” Bella defended, “And Sigrid was getting desperate. I knew Fíli wouldn’t be able to condone her remaining ignorant and untrained in the matter of being able to defend herself. Especially because…”

“She is his One,” Thorin finished.

“Yes,” Bella agreed and then hesitantly asked, “Does that bother you?”

“Why would it?” Thorin asked, perplexed.

“If… _when_ Fíli marries her,” Bella explained carefully, “And if they have children… there will be many who protest having a half-human in line for the throne of Erebor.”

“They can all go fling themselves off of cliffs,” Thorin returned firmly, eliciting a shocked giggle from Bella, “Politically speaking, theirs is a good match. There is no law which states that the King of Erebor must be fully dwarven.”

“I think it might have been implied,” Bella said.

Thorin shrugged, as much as he could, “Any who protest Fíli son ruling Under the Mountain shall have to contend with the business end of Orcrist and, unless I’m sorely mistaken, Sting’s as well.”

“You’re not,” Bella assured him, “Although I’m just as liable to bury a knife in their backs before they even realize what has happened.”

“Have you always been this bloodthirsty, little flower?” Thorin teased.

“My former neighbors would tell you that I have been utterly corrupted by thirteen dwarrows and a wizard,” Bella said dryly.

“But we know better,” Thorin remarked.

“I can’t tell you how close I was to throwing the Company out of Bag End before you showed up and I finally got an explanation for _why_ my smial had been invaded by dwarves,” Bella admitted with a smirk.

“That would have been a sight,” Thorin chuckled for a moment and then sobered, “Perhaps the addition of human and elven blood will be enough to spare the children of my sons from the curse of Durin. Either way, I am confident that Erebor will be stronger because of the unions between Fíli and Sigrid and Kíli and Tauriel, not weaker.”

“You know,” Bella spoke softly, her eyes glinting with unshed tears, “I don’t believe that I’ve been as proud of anyone as I am of you at this moment, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“I am unworthy of your pride, _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin said.

“You’re really not,” Bella denied.

“Tell me about Mordor?” Thorin requested then, the query a result of, not idle curiosity, buy of a fervent need burning inside of him. He _needed_ to know what his Bella had been forced to endure without the support of her kin, without _his_ support, because Thorin had been so terribly blind and callous. And here he was, thinking of her possessively, as _his_ , again, as if he had any right to.

“I certainly will not be recommending it as a place to spend one’s holiday,” Bella quipped, her tone light with false cheer.

“Bella,” Thorin implored, “ _Please_. Unless… if speaking about it pains you…”

“It won’t,” Bella returned, “I haven’t even had any nightmares since returning to Erebor. The worst thing that the Ring did was attempt to convince me that you and the others would die if I destroyed it. That fear was assuaged as soon as I saw all of you, healthy and hale, upon my return home.”

“Healthy, perhaps, but not whole. Not without you, _Ughvashâ_ ,” Thorin insisted, eliciting a soft smile from her. It warmed him utterly, to see that sweet smile and to hear her refer to Erebor as her _home_. “The Ring spoke to you?”

“And sent me a plethora of bad dreams,” Bella answered, sounding more irritated than upset, “It meant to frighten me into compliance… all it did was compel me to hate it unreservedly. I was very glad to be rid of it, in the end.”

“Tell me,” Thorin repeated.

Bella considered him, “You’re not going to like it.”

“I am quite confident of that,” Thorin declared, “I still… I need to know.”

“I discovered what the Ring really was shortly after the Battle ended, right after I spoke to Dáin, actually,” Bella began diffidently. “I set out for Lothlórien, because Gandalf had mentioned that Elrond was there, recovering from a fight against Sauron in Dol Guldur. Legolas joined me almost immediately; he was quite furious with his father regarding Tauriel’s banishment from Mirk-, I mean the _Greenwood_ , and wished to put as much space as possible between himself and Thranduil. It was in Lothlórien that we both met Gimli. He, er, had attempted to follow after the Company and gotten rather badly lost. Galadriel saved him from a pack of orcs and healed him.”

“Yes,” Thorin muttered, “That certainly sounds like Gimli.”

“Legolas and Gimli… they were drawn to one another almost immediately, although they tried to hide behind the customary dislike that they felt they should have had for each other at first. It was a source of great amusement for the greater part of the expedition to Mordor,” Bella revealed, “But by the end, they had sorted themselves out, with a little help from some Orcs.”

“Orcs?” Thorin questioned sharply.

“Legolas, Gimli, and I were the only three of the Fellowship who actually walked through Mordor,” Bella sighed, “The others were _detained_ by the Steward of Gondor until Aragorn deposed of him and claimed his kingship. Almost immediately after getting in… Legolas and Gimli allowed themselves to be captured by a band Saruman’s Urak-Hai and Sauron’s Orcs as a distraction so that I could keep going. Legolas let them torture him for several days to protect Gimli.”

“They escaped though,” Thorin murmured, horrified, “They’re alright.”

“They’re alright,” Bella promised him. “I tricked the Urak-Hai and Orcs into fighting one another and freed them. They were… rather angry about it at the time,” Bella huffed, “But I didn’t agree to bear the Ring for the sake of Arda and I wasn’t about to let my brother’s beloved son or my sister’s dearest cousin be killed by Orcs when I could do something to prevent it.”

“I understand,” Thorin told her, “I would have done no differently, in your place. Well, perhaps, I would not have thought to fool the Orcs. I would have charged in, sword raised high, and most likely would have been killed for my efforts.”

“History does actually support that prediction,” Bella replied tartly.

“The other members of your Fellowship,” Thorin inquired, seeking to distract her from that particular branch of thought, “How did they come to join you?”

“Aragorn and Arwen were already in Caras Galadhon when Legolas and I arrived,” Bella illuminated, “They had been visiting Lady Galadriel, Arwen’s grandmother, and Arwen sensed the presence of the Ring almost as soon as she came into contact with me. She told Aragorn and the two swore on the spot to help me get to Mordor. Legolas and Gimli were present and they vowed to go with me too. By the time that Gandalf showed up the following morning, we had already begun to make plans for the excursion south. Éowyn, Boromir, and Faramir arrived a few days later as part of diplomatic envoys from Rohan and Gondor. Arwen insisted on us telling the three of them and her _intuition_ on the matter was later proven to be extremely beneficial; Éowyn killed the Witch-king of Angmar, the Lord of the Nazgûl, and Boromir and Faramir were able to guide us safely through the Dead Marshes and pointed us in the direction of the secret stair near Minas Morgul, which is how Gimli, Legolas, and I made it into Mordor.”

“Minas Morgul,” Thorin echoed in a bland tone, appalled at how close Bella had been to the city of the Ring Wraiths.

“There was no other way in, save the Black Gates, and that was more suicidal than we were actually going for,” Bella explained. “We climbed the stair and worked our way through a tunnel system into Mordor. We barely made it through the tunnels actually because of, well, Shelob.”

“Shelob?”

“A spider,” Bella grimaced, “A spider larger than the ones who tried to make meals of us during the quest, a great deal larger, actually. We got past her though… and almost ran straight into the arms of Orcs.”

“You were in so much danger,” Thorin lamented.

“The road was treacherous, we were beset, often, by orcs and the Nazgûl,” Bella said bluntly, “To walk inside Mordor was to inhale death with every breath, entering Mount Doom was like walking into dragon fire. It… it was terrible, Thorin, but I survived it. I survived and now I have the chance to _live_.”

“I should have been there,” Thorin replied.

“I’m glad that you were not,” Bella retorted, “I don’t think that I could have made it if I had been forced to fear for your safety. Knowing that you and the Company were safe was a profound comfort, Thorin.”

“You… you had your mithril coat?” Thorin asked tentatively, “You wore it?”

“Every minute,” Bella assured him. “It saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“Good, that’s… good,” Thorin decided.

“I still have your ring,” Bella blurted out a moment later, “Your great-grandmother’s ring, I mean. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you.”

“It was a gift, Bella,” Thorin returned, as evenly as he could.

“But you gave it to me when you wanted to marry me and-”

“You think my wishes have changed?” Thorin cut her off.

“Have they not?” Bella inquired quietly, looking unsure.

“I do not deserve you,” Thorin spoke firmly, “I will _never_ deserve you and I’m completely ignoring thousands of years of dwarven tradition by even speaking about this without first presenting you with a gift, but, there is nothing I desire more than to have you by my side forever, as my wife, my Queen, and my most beloved friend. So, if you’ll have me…”

“Yes,” Bella declared, tears that Thorin hoped were happy ones trailing down her cheeks, “Yes.”

Thorin smiled widely, his heart lighter than it had been in months upon months… and then the door to their prison slammed open. Reality hit like a boulder striking the earth and Thorin tensed immediately as the Master strolled in, staggering slightly as he walked. Thorin could smell strong spirits on him as if he had bathed in the stuff. The key to the shackles confining Thorin and Bella swung a considerable amount from the Master’s belt with each step that the man took.

“What have you done to make your pretty halfling cry, Oakenshield?” the Master demanded, his words slurred just a bit, as he loomed over Bella drunkenly.

“That is none of your concern,” Thorin snapped.

“I think that she could use some cheering up,” the Master suggested, his tone lewd, “Don’t you? Would you like me to cheer you up, pretty?”

Bella glared at the man, nothing but contempt evident in her expression, “There is nothing that a crude, callous, disgusting individual such as yourself could ever do that would induce anything but the most severe derision from me.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” the Master taunted, incensing Thorin.

“If you so much as touch a single hair on her head,” Thorin snarled, “I will tear your heart from your chest.”

The Master laughed, a low, cruel sound, “You are powerless, my prisoner. I am going to break the woman you love and you are going to sit there and watch, helplessly, as I do it.” The man gripped Bella’s hair and tilted her head up, “You really should watch how you speak to your betters, halfling.”

“I am half of nothing,” Bella retorted.

“I think of so many better ways for you to use that mouth,” the Master told her.

Those vulgar words, delivered by the tongue of an equally offensive man, were enough to make Thorin’s world wash crimson. A growl escaped his throat as he pulled at his restraints with a renewed vigor; he would die before he allowed the Master to harm Bella. One audible ‘pop’ later and Thorin’s left arm was free, the clamp that had kept the chain fixed to the wall having given way due to the intense strain due to Thorin’s exertions.

The Master spun around at the noise, but he was too late to stop Thorin from swinging the loose length of chain as if it were a whip, too late to do anything but widen his eyes in shocked terror as the chain wrapped around his neck completely, propelled to do so by one precise jerk of Thorin’s arm. The Master sputtered for breath, clawing at the metal encircling his throat, as Thorin yanked the despicable man away from Bella and toward him.

The moment that the man was fully within reach, Thorin snapped the Master’s neck unceremoniously. He was dead before his body had time to slam into the rough stone flooring.

Thorin took a deep breath as his wrath faded and he snatched up the key, using it to unlock his right wrist before rushing to kneel before Bella, whose eyes were wide.

“Are you alright?” Thorin asked, unfastening the cuffs around her wrists as quickly as he was capable of, “Bella?”

“You just… you just ripped metal from stone to save me,” Bella uttered, blinking quickly, “I think I need a minute to wrap my head around that.”

Thorin took her hands in his, inspecting the dark bruises ringing both of her wrists, “I think it would have been more impressive if I had actually been able to rip his heart out.”

Bella huffed out a laugh, gripped the lapels of his shirt and kissed him. Thorin returned it at once, wrapping his arms around her deceptively slender form and pouring his very soul into the kiss. Bella’s lips were soft beneath his and tasted like honey; the skin of her cheek was silk to the touch. Thorin held on to her and would have been perfectly content to never have that moment end. Except…

“Well,” Dáin announced, bursting the bubble of their little world, “This explains quite a great deal, actually.”

************************************************************************

Bella looked away from Thorin to see eleven of her brothers and Dáin, and a few other dwarrow besides, watching her and Thorin with expressions ranging from utter shock to varying degrees of wariness to stark relief. Though why Kíli, Bombur, Dwalin, and Ori looked so relieved was a mystery that Bella didn’t quite have the energy to solve at that moment.

“Hello,” Bella managed to say and then, for a complete lack of anything better to add, “Thorin pulled a chain out of the wall.”

Abstractedly, Bella understood that the stresses and joys of the day had actually affected her a bit more than she would have assumed they would.

“We can see that,” Fíli replied slowly, “Are either of you hurt?”

“Bella’s wrists are bruised badly,” Thorin announced.

“Yours are bleeding,” Bella pointed out reasonably, “So, technically, you’re more hurt than I am. Because you ripped the chains from the wall.”

“Are you ever going to get tired of repeating that?” Thorin wondered, amused.

“Probably not,” Bella decided, giggling in a mixture of relief and amazement. She looked into Thorin’s eyes, so full of happiness that she felt like she could float if she really wished to. Thorin leaned forward and nuzzled her nose with his; a Hobbitish gesture of affection that he had once scoffed at, preferring the more traditional dwarven means of expressing love, like kisses and forehead touches and, of course, sex.

“For the love of Mahal,” Bella distantly heard Nori complain, “It’s like we’re not even here; it’s bloody Lake-town all over again.”

“Oh, hush,” Ori scolded.

“Uncle,” Kíli spoke up, loudly, “We need to get Bél back to the safety of the Mountain.”

_That_ got Thorin’s attention and he turned to look over at the others again, prompting Bella to follow suit.

“Kíli’s right,” Dwalin said, “It ain’t safe, havin’ her so far away from Erebor. There are still plenty of Orcs roaming these parts and ya both need medical attention before we go.”

Thorin nodded and stood, lifting Bella to her feet at the same time. Bella took one of his hands in hers, gratified when he gripped hers back.

“They took Sting and Orcrist,” Bella revealed as Óin walked over and inspected her free wrist.

“We’ve got ‘em,” Glóin announced, lifting both the swords up so that she and Thorin could see them, “The fools upstairs were arguing about how much they were worth when we slit their throats.”

“You didn’t arrest them?” Bella questioned, not all that concerned by the fate of the Master’s soldiers, but curious despite herself.

“They dared to kidnap you and Thorin,” Fíli replied grimly. “Their fate was sealed from the moment they laid their hands upon you.”

“How did you find us?” Thorin asked.

‘ _Bella’s fairy_ ,’ Bifur signed, ‘ _We found it where the two of you were taken_.’

“It was very clever of you, _Namadith_ ,” Dori praised, “To plant it in such a way that we could follow your trail here.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Thorin spoke lowly.

Bella blushed, “Yes, well, it slipped my mind. We were a bit preoccupied with other things.”

“Like snogging each other senseless?” Nori inquired. “What, exactly, were the two of you planning on doing if _we_ hadn’t been the ones to come down here?”

“And what were you thinking, leaving the Mountain without guards?” Óin demanded as he carefully bandaged Bella’s left wrist.

“I think that we’re in trouble,” Bella said in an aside to Thorin.

“Yes,” Bofur agreed emphatically, his arms crossed, “You are.”

“ _Bells_ ,” Fíli declared definitively.

************************************************************************

The long trek back to the Lonely Mountain, Ori noted, was remarkable in two ways- and the first way was that Thorin never released Bella’s hand for any part of it, shooting besotted look after besotted look her way. Bella, for her part, gazed back at him as often as she could, her entire being aglow with an ardent delight.

The second reason that the journey was noteworthy was that, at one point, the moon’s beams broke through the thick canopy above them and bathed the pair of them in an almost ethereal light as they smiled wholeheartedly at one another. For a moment, just a moment, Ori didn’t only see Thorin and Bella in that patch of moonlight, but Durin I and his queen, a _Hobbit_ with thick red curls and honey-brown eyes, as well, smiling at the other two contentedly. Ori blinked and they were gone, but he would never forget the sight.

How long had he suspected the wife Durin I took from the grace of the earth, the only wife that any of the incarnations of Durin ever had, was a Hobbit? There was an entire section in the _Mekebel_ filled with texts written entirely in Greentongue which had supported his suspicions and now he had _seen_ the truth; a truth that had been so jealously guarded by the dwarves living in the time of Durin I and directly following his death that it had been lost to legend before Durin II had ever been born. Until now.

Ori looked around at the rest of the group and realized that, while Dáin and his men seemed blissfully unaware that anything had occurred, and Bella and Thorin were too wrapped up in each other to notice anyone else, the rest of the Company had gone as pale as milk. Ori took Dwalin’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Did ya see…?” Dwalin questioned in a harsh whisper.

“Yes,” Ori answered candidly, in an undertone. “It would explain why none of the other embodiments of Durin ever found their Ones. He heard her voice in his dreams but he never saw her; she must have been waiting for him in the Shire each time.”

None of the incarnations of Durin had ever gone near the Shire, which had been settled by Bella’s people in the period between Durin I and Durin II. The first Hobbits to appear in Arda made homes in the land around the Lonely Mountain, where Mahal forged his dwarrow in secret, although many, especially non-dwarves, considered Moria to be the true homeland of the dwarves, as it was where the first dwarven kingdom was established. Mahal and Yavanna had crafted their children to coexist in harmony and, privately, Ori blamed the separation of the two races for why both dwarves and Hobbits were so terribly prejudiced and were _less_ than what they could be. After all, how much had Bella flourished amongst the Company? How good did the dwarves she claimed as hers grow to be because of her influence?

“And each one made terrible mistakes because of her absence,” Dwalin remarked insightfully, his words mirroring Ori’s thoughts.

“Mahal never intended for Durin to spend any of his lives alone,” Ori said. “He won’t be in his next one.”

Ori would create as many records as he needed to ensure that when Durin VII came into the world he would know to make straight for the Shire to find his One.

“If Durin’s wife was a Hobbit,” Dwalin replied thoughtfully, “And that becomes common knowledge… there won’t be any dwarf in Erebor who dares to make an issue outta Thorin makin’ Bella his Queen.”

“And the non-Ereborian dwarrow?” Ori asked.

“If any of them make an issue of it,” Dwalin swore lowly, “They’ll find themselves gettin’ up close and personal with Grasper and Keeper.”

************************************************************************

Bella had fallen asleep in Thorin’s arms almost immediately upon their sitting down in the Royal Parlor. Thorin, Nori noted with exasperation _and_ approval, was looking at Bella as if the King were a flower and she was the very sun which sustained him. Approval, because if Thorin was going to look at Bella Mira Baggins, he had ruddy well better look at her as if she were a divine gift from Mahal.

Exasperation, because Nori had managed to suppress his memories of how ridiculously gone on one another Thorin and Bella had behaved in the days between becoming engaged and the descent of the gold madness, through much time and effort, and now he remembered the love struck behavior perfectly. The Spymaster of Erebor was going to have to increase his surveillance on both of them to an exaggerated degree until this besotted stage had passed; they both were going to be completely useless before that time.

“ _Idad_ ,” Fíli spoke, after Dáin had been dismissed and Balin had joined them, trying, and subsequently failing, to divert Thorin’s attention away from Bél, “ ** _Idad_**.”

“Sure, little lion,” Thorin commented agreeably, “Whatever you like.”

Fíli took a deep breath and looked skyward as Kíli snickered at the older Prince’s dwarfling nickname resurfacing. Nori certainly did not envy Fíli’s position as Bella’s eldest brother; he was quite glad that it was not his responsibility to get Thorin to listen to him while the king was so distracted.

“Shut up, little raven,” Fíli instructed his younger brother, causing Kíli to wrinkle his nose in discomfiture, and then tried again, “ _Thorin_.”

Thorin finally looked toward him, blinking, and asked in a mild tone of voice, “Yes?”

“What are you doing?” Fíli questioned.

Thorin appeared to flounder at the query for a moment and then decided, “Guarding Bella.”

Fíli exhaled sharply, “What the fuck were you thinking, taking her out of the Mountain without backup? Even Kíli knows better than to do that.”

“Yeah,” Kíli agreed and then frowned, “Wait… was that an insult?”

Thorin flinched minutely, Bella stirred in his arms briefly before settling again, “I never take guards with me when I go to Dale-”

“Which I’ve formally complained about on multiple occasions,” Dwalin interjected harshly.

“I believed that no one would dare attack Bella if I was present,” Thorin admitted, “Especially not on a road so heavily traveled as the one between Dale and Erebor is. It was nothing more than providence that no one happened upon the Master’s group as they were kidnapping us.”

“Clearly, you were wrong,” Fíli snapped.

“Yes,” Thorin agreed without contest, “I was. Bella’s life was put at risk because I was an idiot.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Nori chimed in, and it said something, didn’t it, that he was so comfortable with Thorin and the Company that he was willing to imply the King could be moron to his face, “But, to be fair, Bella is just as much to blame for the lack of guards as you are.”

“Something like this was bound to happen eventually,” Ori sighed, “She’s been remarkably cooperative about it for our sake, but she hates having strangers following her around when one of us can’t be with her or when she leaves the Mountain.”

“Perhaps, now this will convince her otherwise,” Bombur suggested hopefully.

“I can guarantee you that it won’t,” Bofur muttered.

Nori caught his eye and saw that Bofur knew exactly how Bella would respond; she wouldn’t see what happened as a hint to let others stand in her defense, she would see it as an incentive to push herself harder to ensure that she could take care of herself and those that she loved. Oh, she’d let her brothers fret over her, because she would know that they needed to in order to heal from this, but all the while she would be planning new ways to become faster and stealthier and lethal.

“You were teaching her archery before,” Nori turned to Kíli, “Have you restarted your lessons?”

“Not yet,” Kíli answered.

“You should,” Nori urged.

“Why?” Kíli asked, “I mean, I’d love to, but you’re acting like it’s super important.”

“It is,” Nori responded and then, at his blank look, “The next time there’s a battle, and there _will_ be another battle, do you really want our sister out in the thick of it?” Nori let _that_ sink in, “The more skilled she becomes with a bow, the more likely that we’ll be able to fight on the high ground, where’s it’s safer.”

“We’ll start lessons tomorrow, er, on Mersday, I mean,” Kíli decided.

“What happened before we arrived?” Fíli inquired, steering the conversation back to the abduction.

“Pulling your chains from the wall sounds more than a bit impressive, actually, laddie,” Balin added, a twinkle in his eye.

“Aye,” Glóin agreed, “It might have been man-made, but it was no brittle metal.”

Nori watched as Thorin’s arms tightened protectively around Bella and unease settled in his gut even before Thorin spoke, “The Master…he threatened to rape Bella. I lost it, a bit.”

Something cold rushed through Nori’s veins, turning his blood to ice. He found himself wishing that the Master’s corpse was before him so that he could desecrate it totally before feeding what was left of it to the carrion crows.

“You stopped him,” Fíli said, his voice shaking slightly.

“I snapped his neck,” Thorin assured. “He didn’t harm her.”

“Good,” Fíli told him.

“And that’s when you two decided to ignore your injuries, minute though they were, and the rest of your captors and snog, yes?” Óin asked.

“I… I wouldn’t exactly call it a _decision_ , per say,” Thorin replied, looking down at Bella again with absolute tenderness. “She forgave me… for… she shouldn’t have, but she did anyway.”

Yes, of course she had. Nori knew that Bella had forgiven Thorin long before that night; it was not in the nature of a Hobbit to bear a grudge for very long.

“You’re going to marry her,” Fíli deduced, “Aren’t you?”

“I am,” Thorin returned evenly, “I am ordering you, this day, my sister-son, to neutralize me should I ever succumb to the gold-sickness again.”

Fíli recoiled in horror, “ _What_?”

“I will not abide being a threat to Bella,” Thorin announced reasonably, as if his edict were in any way _reasonable_.

“I am not going to kill you,” Fíli hissed at him, “And you are not going to fall ill again, so stop being an idiot.”

“Fíli-” Thorin began.

“ _No_ ,” Fíli cut him off, “I forbid it. You and Bél are going to get married and drive the rest of us crazy with your respective over-dramatic, ridiculousness until the end of time. And that’s final.”

Thorin opened his mouth, presumably to argue the point in some way.

Nori wasn’t having any of that, “We’re a family, Thorin, and this family will not abide losing you _or_ Bella again.”

A chorus of soft, but utterly sincere, ‘Aye’s’ set that pronouncement into stone.

************************************************************************

Bella woke feeling better than she had in a ridiculously long time. She was resting almost on top of Thorin, who had her cocooned in his arms. They were still in the Royal Parlor, stretched out across the midnight blue sofa that they had collapsed on the night before almost as soon as they had seen it.

Bella tilted her head up and saw Thorin had woken up as well, “Good morning.”

“It’s quite late in the afternoon, actually,” Thorin told her, stroking a hand through her curls, “Dáin agreed to oversee things while I rested.”

“The Company?”

“They’re asleep,” Thorin told her, his tone now laced with astonishment as he spoke, “In piles all around us. I had a very long talk with all of them last night or this morning, I suppose.”

“Why do you sound so shocked?” Bella asked.

“I can’t feel it,” Thorin admitted roughly, “The pull of the gold… it’s _gone_ , Bella.”

Relief was a heady thing to be sure.

“I told you,” Bella grinned up at him.

“You did,” Thorin agreed, looking at her in amazement, “I feel like myself but also _more_ somehow. Like I can do anything I’ll ever need to as long as you are by my side, _Nanging_.”

“It’s a good thing that I’m never leaving you then, is it not?” Bella murmured and then froze as her stomach twinged in a way that she had all but forgotten it could.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin asked in concern.

“Nothing,” Bella laughed, half in disbelief and half in thrilled gratitude, “It’s just… I’m hungry, _Khaeluh_.”

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Ghivashel_ – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
  * _Ughvashâ_ _–_ Greatest Treasure
  * _Nanging_ – Flower
  * _Khaeluh_ – My Wolf
  * _Mekebel_ – Great Library
  * _Idad_ – Uncle
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother




	8. Part the Eighth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief Mention of Past Implied Rape; Not of Bella or the Company; Orcs are Terrible Creatures.

**_Chapter Eight_ **

Fifteen days before Durin’s Day, the Ravens of Erebor reported that the caravan of the Lady Dís, Princess of Erebor, was less than forty-eight hours off from the Lonely Mountain. It only two short days, the first two thousand of Thorin’s people would be arriving in Erebor. More caravans, smaller ones, would make the journey east eventually, but this was to be the largest and was, in Glóin’s rather biased opinion, the most important. Because his Gaela was amongst the dwarrow led by the Dúnedain Rangers and, by Mahal, how he had missed her.

He could barely stand to wait, especially now that she was so close. He was eagerly anticipating being able to show her the wonders of Erebor, to lead her through the Royal Wing to their new home, which he had designed with her in mind. He wished for her to meet Bella, to know his _Namadith’s_ kindness and bravery, for her to become reacquainted with the dwarves who had become his brothers through blood spent and tears shared. He yearned to hold her close and love her.

All this he eagerly looked forward too. Unfortunately, there was one thing, however, that caused him trepidation. And that one thing, it was their son.

Glóin was immeasurably proud of his child, of course he was. Gimli had helped to save all of Arda, had protected Bella and given her strength when she needed it. Gimli’s name would pass in legend forevermore and his bravery was already heralded in song inside Erebor. He could have marched into the Mountain with Bella and would have received a hero’s welcome, (Thorin had revealed that he intended to name Gimli a High Lord in his own right as soon as he Presented himself to the king), but Gimli had chosen to tirelessly hunt Saruman first. There was no dwarf in existence that would not be swollen with pride over having such a child as their own.

But there was one slight issue, an issue that Glóin had not felt appropriate to bring up with his Gaela in a mere letter. Glóin was not particularly looking forward to discussing this issue with his wife at all, actually, but at least he had the good sense not to spring it on her in an epistle as if it were not momentous news that deserved to be told, should only be told, face to face. Gimli, it seemed, had not been taught that particular life lesson yet.

Glóin smoothed out a worn piece of parchment that he had read over and over in the twenty-eight days since Fíli had given it to him. He’d had four weeks to work out exactly what to say to Gaela and still… well, he still didn’t have a ruddy clue. He looked down at his son’s messy handwriting for the umpteenth time.

_‘ **Adad** ,’_

_‘I trust that you and **Idad** are still well. My **Namad-Imad** has assured me that you both survived the Battle of the Fire Armies intact and **Tharkûn** backed up her claims. I expected nothing less, of course, you are both incredible warriors.’_

_‘I imagine that you were quite worried when you discovered that I had chased after you, and were quite exasperated to learn that my directional skills were as poor as our King’s, but I am fine. I bear a few scars, but that is to be expected when one goes to a place like Mordor, and neither you nor **Idad** , or **Amad** , for that matter, should be upset about them. You probably will be anyway.’_

_‘I cannot come to Erebor yet, Adad. I must see Saruman dead before I can allow myself to be called home, even if I must gut him myself. He is an evil that must not be allowed to endure and his spawn harmed someone most dear to me. I have found my _ **Umùrad’akar**_ , **Adad** , and Saruman’s Urak-Hai nearly took him from me. For this offense, he will pay; I swear this on my honor as a dwarf.’_

_‘This might be a comfort to you, to know that I am loved as much as you love **Amad**. It probably won’t be, though, to learn that my One is an elf. The Prince Legolas, to tell the truth.’_

_‘We pledged ourselves to one another in Mordor. An elopement is not, I know, considered a legal marriage by dwarven law, not without the King’s say-so, but Legolas is my husband as far as I am concerned, even if we never wed in dwarven fashion. I’m sure that you’ll be upset to read this, which is why I am more than willing to travel the Wildes until you think you can meet my husband, properly, him arresting you doesn’t count, **Adad** , without trying to kill him. I’m rather fond of him and I like him breathing.’_

_‘I love you, and **Amad** , and **Idad** very much. Be safe and do what you can to keep Bella from getting herself into trouble. She’s good at it, for someone so small.’_

_‘Gimli, son of Glóin, son of Gróin’_

His son, his little star, had gone and eloped with Thranduil’s son. The pompous weed-eater who had dared to insult both Glóin’s beautiful Gaela and his headstrong boy, as he tied Glóin up, had somehow managed to seduce his only child.

Glóin didn’t hate _all_ elves. Tauriel was perfectly alright, someone Glóin was proud to call his friend, for example, and the Lord Elrond hadn’t been _that_ bad, for a tree-shagger. Queen Arwen couldn’t be too terrible, either, since Bella spoke so highly of her and the Lady Galadriel had been kind enough to send aid during the brutal winter that had followed the Battle. But Glóin had not been in the Prince of Mirkwood’s presence for a full five minutes before he was certain that the elfling was very much Thranduil’s son.

Perhaps Legolas wasn’t all bad, since he had turned on his father for banishing his cousin and had protected Bella in Mordor, but there was no way that the elf could have possibly changed so much as to be good enough for Glóin’s son. Even if he was Gimli’s One; and Glóin was half convinced that Legolas had cast some kind of spell on Gimli to make his son fall in love with him. He would have been surer of this, but Óin, when Glóin had brought the topic up, had rolled his eyes and took away his drink. But, surely, his elder brother could not be right about _everything_.

Glóin was still frowning at his son’s letter when a knock sounded at his door.

“Come in,” he called, smiling a bit when the door opened to reveal his sister, wearing a burgundy dress and a golden tiara set with rubies in shades of maroon.

In her hair was a mithril betrothal bead, with a tiny rose of ruby and emerald set upon it and engraved with the Crest of Durin, dangling at the end of her betrothal braid. A second bead hung on a mithril chain around her neck, Glóin knew, hidden beneath the neckline of her dress. A gold bead with the outline of a wolf in mithril inlaid flawlessly into it; Thorin had returned it to her and she insisted on wearing it on a necklace since she could not wear it in her hair.

The King Under the Mountain still wore Bella’s hair around his wrist, but, at least Glóin suspected, it was more of a comfort to him than a painful reminder now. How could it be, when she had to yet take off the ring that he had given her in Lake-town a year earlier since they had returned from being the Master’s _guests_ and had taken one look at Thorin’s courting gift, a dwarven dagger, (to balance out the elven weaponry she relied on), made of mithril with a hilt set with dozens of snow-white pearls, and kissed him senseless? Thorin, too, wore a betrothal bead in his hair, a cylindrical emerald engraved with Greentongue runes of love and loyalty.

Their wedding had already been set to occur during _Âfkidhuz'abad_ , on July the twenty-fifth to be precise. The date would fall several months short of September the twenty-eighth, their engagement’s year mark, but Bella wished for a summer wedding and Thorin wished to give Bella everything and anything he could to make her happy. It would speed up the timetable of the rest of the courtship process, but that was nothing that overeager dwarrows had not done before.

Dori, bless his prudish sensibilities, had tried to insist that the happy couple be given a chaperone, but Bella had put paid to that idea immediately, announcing that it was a bit too late to worry about such things and, besides, she couldn’t get pregnant anyway. While the majority of the Company had sputtered at the sheer brazenness of their sister’s words, because _Bella_ did not just say such things, and the rest tittered, mostly in disbelief, Thorin had pulled Bella into his arms and whispered something into her ear that’d had her blushing and laughing.

Dori had sighed, as he was wont to do, and had begun designing Bella’s wedding gown.

“Óin asked me to find you,” Bella announced, grinning at him. “It’s dinner time.”

Bella looked healthier after just a few days of her appetite returning to her; her face had already lost the gauntness that had so worried her brothers. Hobbits needed seven meals a day because they burned energy more quickly than other races did. The Company had learned this in Lake-town, from Tauriel, because Bella had been reluctant to be seen as more of a burden than she perceived herself to be. She had received quite the lecture for that particular omission.

“I’ll be right there,” Glóin replied.

Bella tilted her head at him, considering, and then questioned gently, “Why are you upset, _Nadad_?”

“Gaela will be here soon,” Glóin sighed.

Bella blinked, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes!” Glóin exclaimed, “Of course it is. It’s just… Gimli.”

“Does she not realize that he isn’t here?” Bella inquired in alarm.

“No, she knows that,” Glóin huffed, “It’s his elopement with that ruddy elf that she doesn’t know about. It didn’t seem right, telling her in a letter. Though, it would perhaps, have been safer if I had.”

“You think that she’ll be very upset?” Bella asked tentatively.

“Of course she will!” Glóin declared, “I’m very upset about it.”

“Because Legolas is an elf,” Bella stated, frowning now.

“Because I have borne witness to the character of the Prince of Mirkwood and I find it lacking,” Glóin returned heatedly, “I would not be surprised if the coward is merely playing with my son’s heart in order to cause strife to the dwarves of Erebor.”

“That is an extremely inappropriate comment to make,” Bella snapped, and Glóin turned to see that Bella looked quite angry with him. “Putting aside the fact that you met Legolas _once_ and that amount of time was hardly enough to discover every nuance of his heart and soul, do you really believe that I would not have intervened had I even suspected that Legolas was using Gimli in such a torrid way?”

“I would never think such a thing!” Glóin swore, “You risked everything to save Gimli in Mordor, _Namadith_ , I do not doubt that you would defend his heart as well as his body. But elves can use magic in terrible ways.”

“Legolas did _not_ bewitch your son, Glóin,” Bella retorted, sounding seriously unimpressed with him.

“How can be sure of that though?” Glóin asked.

Bella looked away and took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a battle, “What I’m about to tell you, Glóin, never leaves this room. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” Glóin acquiesced.

“Azog was called the ‘ _Defiler_ ’ and for good reason,” Bella looked directly at Glóin, managing to keep her voice sharp and steady, though, he noticed, she could not stop her tightly clenched fists from trembling at her sides, “But he was hardly the only Orc with such… predilections. Gimli and Legolas were held captive for three days before I managed to get to them. During that time, Legolas ensured that the Orcs had no reason to harm Gimli, at least not physically. Ask yourself, _Nadad_ , what Legolas had to have done to make certain that your son remained untouched by those filthy creatures and then tell me that he is a coward who is only interested in your son because it would _upset_ a few dwarves in Erebor.”

“By Mahal,” Glóin breathed, instantly shocked and horrified as her implication hit him. “He…”

“I suggest that you _never_ even imply such falsehoods about Legolas in your son’s hearing,” Bella told him firmly, “Unless you believe that you would not furiously tear apart anyone who accused your wife of such things. Gimli has your temperament, after all.”

“Aye,” Glóin agreed, subdued and contemplative, “He does.”

************************************************************************

“Is something wrong with Glóin?” Kíli asked, around a mouthful of trout. “He doesn’t seem to be his usual loud, brash self tonight.”

“He… he’s simply finally adjusting to the fact of his elven son-in-law,” Bella explained as she spread a thick glob of golden honey, a gift sent to Erebor from Beorn, on a piece of bread with her platinum and opal knife, “And don’t talk with your mouth full; it’s unseemly.”

Kíli rolled his eyes but made a show of swallowing before he spoke again, “He keeps alternating between looking upset and relieved. And he hasn’t even touched his mead yet.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it, given enough time,” Thorin assured him, before taking a sip of his mulled wine, a beverage that had brought from the east by the same traders that Bella had, eventually, purchased spices from in larger quantities that she expected would still be available. Thorin had seen the wine and bought every case, later confiding to Bella that it had been Frerin’s favorite.

“You seem rather sure of that,” Fíli noted.

“Well, if _I_ could get over it then I’m rather sure that Glóin can,” Thorin pointed out. “Bella has repeatedly assured me that I am the most stubborn dwarrow in existence.”

Bella smirked and popped a piece of fried potato into her mouth, heartened by the delight and laughter that she could see dancing in Thorin’s sky-blue eyes.

“True,” Kíli snorted. “Since we’re on that topic… I need to ask something of you, uncle.”

“What is it, Kíli?” Thorin replied, as Bella took note of her brother’s anxiousness.

“I have been in correspondence with _Amad_ regarding this issue and she agrees with me,” Kíli rushed to get out, “I believe, and so does she, that Tauriel should be here, standing by my side, for her arrival. She thinks that our people should get used to seeing her in Erebor as quickly as possible.”

Perhaps the overwhelming joy of returning to their homeland would soften the blow of learning that their Prince was going to wed the niece of Thranduil, Bella translated privately. Until they could discover for themselves how different Tauriel was from the King of Mirkwood, the dwarrow heading toward Erebor would be wary of her, to say the least.

Thorin cast a look over at Dáin, who had challenged Dwalin to a drinking contest, and then nodded, “Give Tauriel your courting gift tomorrow afternoon in Dale and then bring her back to the Mountain with a betrothal bead already in her hair.”

Bella was unsure, just as Thorin seemed to be, if Dáin was going to be a problem. She certainly hoped that he wouldn’t be; Thorin would find it difficult to forgive his cousin for the transgression of stupidity a second time. Dáin had celebrated with everyone else when Thorin had announced that he was going to wed Bella, but a Hobbit marrying into Erebor’s Royal Family and an elf doing the same were two very different things.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Kíli breathed, looking relieved and excited beyond measure.

“Her rooms have been finished,” Fíli chimed in blithely, “There’s a secret passage that leads from her bedroom and into yours, _Nadad_.”

“There’s a what?” Thorin demanded of his heir.

“I had the builders add one,” Fíli’s expression was one of unflinching innocence as he gazed at his uncle, a look he only adopted when his current actions were far from virtuous, “I was only trying to safeguard the propriety of the Royal Family, _Idad_. Not that _you’re_ particularly concerned about it.”

Bella flicked a chunk of potato at him, hitting him square in the nose and then she raised an eyebrow at him when he turned to her accusingly, his steel blue eyes wide and mournful.

“Since you’re so interested in the things that occur between Thorin and me, Fee,” Bella said pointedly, in response to the look, “Would you like me to tell you exactly what your uncle and I did this afternoon?”

“ _Bél_!” Fíli wailed, covering his ears in horror.

“Hey!” Kíli protested, “I’m here too and I haven’t expressed any interest at all in anything of the kind! I don’t care what you two do as long as I don’t have to hear about it or even think about it.”

“Oh, relax, Kee,” Bella rolled her eyes, “We spent all afternoon discussing which types of flowers, berries, and vegetables that I’m going to plant in my garden.”

“That was a euphemism of some sort, wasn’t it?” Fíli declared miserably.

Thorin snorted in amusement, “I’m sure with you _everything_ is, my sister-son.”

“Bella,” Dori called from a bit down the table, “Do you prefer ivory or cream colored linens?”

“Ivory,” Bella replied quickly.

“Good choice!” Dori praised, though Bella rather thought that he would have said the exact same thing had she chosen cream instead.

“What’s the difference?” Kíli asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Bella admitted, “They’re both shades of off-white.”

“Hobbit wedding have lots of flowers, don’t they?” Fíli questioned suddenly.

“Well, yes,” Bella agreed, “Flowers are the Hobbit equivalent to gemstones; they’re used as decorations for every occasion, including wedding. One of my cousins married her husband in a dress sewn of white and pink calla lilies. It was pretty but also ridiculously impractical.”

“What do calla lilies mean?” Kíli wondered.

“Feminine beauty and delicacy,” Bella wrinkled up her nose, “They’re lovely flowers to look at, but they’re not exactly my cup of tea.”

“Why?” Kíli followed up with, simple inquisitiveness in his expression.

“Calla lilies are used to represent the standard of women that is accepted in the Shire, and I’ve never fit that standard,” Bella explained, and then grinned. “Neither did my mother. My grandmother, Laura Baggins, used to send mother calla lilies every chance that she could but mother always stripped them apart and put them in our bird feeder. What the birds didn’t eat they took to line their nests.”

“No calla lilies then,” Fíli said decisively. “Do Hobbits always wear white when they marry?”

“No,” Bella replied, sipping at her own wine, “Many do, but just as many wear pastel colors, light blues, or purples, or pinks. My mother wore an ash blue dress when she married my father. Do dwarrowdams wear white?”

“They can wear whatever they like,” Thorin answered. “The wedding gown is supposed to be the fantasy of the bride made real.”

“I imagine that’s led to some rather interesting dresses worn over the years,” Bella remarked wryly.

“Yes,” Thorin admitted, “It has; during one of the last weddings before Smaug came, the bride chose to wear a gown made out of this translucent, golden silk gauze that left nothing to the imagination. _Amad_ was furious, she dragged Frerin and Dís out of the hall and sent them to their rooms; I had to stay because I was the heir.”

Fíli blinked and then looked at Bella imploringly, “Bél? Please don’t wear anything like that.”

Bella huffed and flicked another potato at him.

************************************************************************

“ _Nûlukhuh_ ,” Tauriel greeted upon seeing Kíli enter the quarters that Bard had so graciously provided for her. She closed the book that she’d been reading and set it upon her bedside table, “Is everything alright? Has Bella gotten kidnapped again?”

“Everything’s absolutely wonderful,” Kíli promised as he sat beside her on the bed, the joy radiating off his person in the moment so infectious that Tauriel could not help but smile in the face of it. “I’ve come to ask you something, _Gimlilukhuduh_.”

“What?”

“You gave me an arrow once, an arrow that saved my life and that of my kin. I am presenting you with this,” Kíli replied, drawing an arrow out from beneath his green cloak and holding it out to her, “In the hope that it shall both provide you with the protection that your arrow afforded me as well as serve as an offering of courtship. Tauriel, will you do me the greatest honor and consent to marrying me?”

Tauriel had never seen an arrow such as the one before her now. Its shaft and fletching were solid silver and its arrowhead was a perfect cone of jade. A gift both beautiful and functional; Tauriel knew instinctively that the aim of this arrow would always be true.

“There is nothing that I wish for more in this world than to be able to call you my husband and be called your wife in return,” Tauriel murmured, taking the arrow reverently. “Your uncle?”

“Has bid me bring you to the Mountain today so that you may greet my mother tomorrow,” Kíli illuminated, presenting a bead of white wood and mithril to her, “Wearing this in your hair.”

“I would like that very much, Kíli,” Tauriel responded, tears of happiness welling up in her eyes. “Will you teach me how to braid it in?”

Kíli’s dark eyes shone in return, “Of course, _Amrâlimê_ _.”_

The pair sat themselves in front of one of the large mirrors that lined the hallway outside of Tauriel’s room, so that Tauriel could watch as Kíli diligently braided a section of her hair on the right side of her head into a plait of betrothal.

“Once we are wed,” Kíli explained to her, as he finished her new braid and attached her bead to the end of it, “A second braid identical to this one will be placed on the other side, so that your face is framed by them.”

“May I braid in your bead now?” Tauriel inquired, feeling a swell of comfort rise within her due to the sensation that came from the slight weight of her bead.

“I would love that,” Kíli assured her.

Tauriel stood and returned to her bedroom, Kíli following behind her. Inside her side table was a small box of Maplewood, which Tauriel retrieved and passed over to Kíli. Kíli opened the box and Tauriel watched as his eyes widened upon seeing the orb of red-gold, inscribed with Sindarin and Khuzdûl Runes of devotion that only she and Kíli would ever be able to see, that was nestled inside.

“I’ve never seen gold such as this,” Kíli remarked, his tone curious as he picked up the bead and cradled it his palm. “It feels… it feels as if I am holding a part of you, Tauriel.

“That is because you are,” Tauriel revealed. “This gold did not come from the earth; I created it in a way that elves do not share with outsiders except rarely.”

“It’s alright if you cannot tell me,” Kíli assured her.

“I can,” Tauriel replied, “You are to be my husband and I have no desire to keep any part of myself hidden from you. The bead in your hand was once a strand of my hair, spun into gold and shaped by touching it repeatedly with my grace over a period of several months.”

Kíli looked astonished, “That’s… that’s _amazing_ , Tauriel. _Incredible_ , really.”

Tauriel blushed under his praise, “I’m glad that it worked. Few elves ever attempt it and there have been less than a dozen throughout the ages who did it often enough to become truly proficient in the skill. But it was very important to me that you have a bead of this kind.”

“Why?” Kíli inquired.

“It was a part of me, given new form by my magic,” Tauriel told him.

“Which means?” Kíli prompted

“As long as you are wearing it,” Tauriel announced, “I shall be able to find you no matter where you are in Arda.”

Kíli blinked, “That’s useful. Does it work in reverse?”

“I’m afraid not,” Tauriel answered, “If you wish it, once we are married, I will be able to touch your soul with my own. It will not allow you to locate me, but you will never have to wonder if I am hurt or worse should we be separated for some reason; you will just know.”

“Yes,” Kíli said softly, taking her hands into his own, “I definitely wish it, Tauriel.”

************************************************************************

The air was quite crisp, the blue and silver flags of Erebor snapping in the breeze from where they hung off of the ramparts, as the first caravan of Thorin Oakenshield’s people approached the Gates of Erebor. Even at this distance, Bifur could see the gleam of the Princess Dís’ armor as the sun struck it.

He, the rest of the Company, Tauriel, Dáin, and many of Dáin’s dwarves were waiting eagerly at the Gates to greet the Princess and those she brought with her. It was much more convenient, for the King to welcome everyone at once, as they filed inside the Mountain, than for a least four hundred Presentations, whole families could be presented together, to be scheduled. This way would still probably take several hours, but the process would be expedited by the fact that Thorin already knew, courtesy of Dís’ careful records, exactly who was coming into his Mountain on that particular day and because of the assistance of several of Dáin’s advisors, who had helped Balin determine where each family or individual dwarf was to live within Erebor, based on their needs. Many would be able to reclaim the living spaces they or their parents had once called home before the dragon’s arrival.

In the coming weeks, the arriving dwarves would be allowed to petition the King for positions within one of the Guilds, if they had not already been promised a job of some kind within the Mountain, or to rent spaces in one of the four quarters of Erebor’s Royal Bazaar.

The excitement of those by the Gates was tangible, like lightning striking brilliant though the sky. There were two individuals, however, who seemed less enthusiastic about the event and more apprehensive.

Bella was fidgeting, twisting and untwisting a small section of her thick, ash pink dress between her forefinger and thumb repeatedly. It was almost imperceptible; those who didn’t know her well wouldn’t catch on to the truth of her nervousness, they wouldn’t notice how her fingers worried at the velvet brocade roses sewn on that patch of dress. Certainly, Bifur knew, most of the dwarves in the room had not the slightest clue that something was amiss with their Queen-to-be.

Her brothers and Thorin could tell though.

The specifics of what, exactly, had transpired between Thorin and Bella during the, thankfully, brief time that they had been trapped together in the Master’s dungeon was a secret shared only by Bella and Thorin, who seemed disinclined to give any details about their conversation, but it wasn’t all that difficult for Bifur to speculate that Thorin’s apology and Bella’s forgiveness had both been emotional and compelling and, above all, healing. The experience had served to more than mend the rift that had grown between them because of the gold madness. They’d barely gone anywhere without the other in the days that followed and before the sun had set on the Mersday in which they had emerged from the Royal Wing, every dwarf in Erebor knew that Thorin was going to marry Bella Mira Baggins, the Sunrise Princess of Arda. So far, there had been none who were stupid enough to protest this development but, if there had been, they would have swiftly found themselves facing the business end of Orcrist or Dáin’s war hammer.

It was because of that long-awaited reconciliation that this was able to happen –Thorin reached over and took Bella’s hand in his own, murmuring something that only she could hear when she looked down at him. Whatever he said caused a beautiful smile to blossom across her face. Like the dawn setting the world awash with color, that smile seemed to brighten up the hall and even the gems set into the walls seemed to sparkle a little more than they had before. Bifur relaxed as he saw it bloom, feeling lighter in the face of his sister’s obvious joy.

But there was still one other who was tense and edgy.

Tauriel did not fidget as Bella had; she stood perfectly still, looking for all the world as if she were the very epitome of cool serenity. She was garbed in a dress of emerald green and bright silver, Kíli’s colors, that had been fashioned to seem both elfish, in cut, and dwarfish, in the geometric patterns that covered it. She wore Kíli’s bead in her hair, carved painstakingly by the Prince from Linden wood with several sparkling stars of mithril faultlessly adorning the wood and making it stand out as a betrothal bead fit for royalty. She seemed completely put together, except Bifur could see the trepidation that she could not quite vanquish swirling in her eyes.

That just wouldn’t do. Tauriel was a hero; the dragon could not have been slain without the black-tipped arrow that she had stolen from the weapon’s vault of the Elvenking. When her own bow had burnt in dragon fire, Tauriel had risked incineration to get the arrow to Kíli so that he could kill Smaug. She had fought fearlessly and ferociously during the Battle, saving Bard’s life and his children’s, at one point, and had worked tirelessly in the aftermath as a healer, nearly depleting her energy entirely to mend as many wounds as she could with her magic. She had been a friend to Bifur, as well; she could not restore his ability to speak Westron but she had been able to eliminate the severe aches that the axe in his skull caused at times by providing him with a potent pain tonic. She should not be so worried about the approaching dwarrow, even if Kíli’s mother was amongst them.

Bifur stared hard at Kíli, who sensed it and turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

‘ _Your starlight is upset,_ ’ Bifur signed in rapid Iglishmêk.

Kíli whipped his head around to look at Tauriel, his own betrothal bead, made of a strange red-gold that Bifur had never seen anywhere else, swaying as a result. Kíli placed a hand in the small of Tauriel’s back and, when she looked at him, grinned widely. The result was instantaneous, Tauriel melted, smiling back at Kíli in pure adoration.

Satisfied, Bifur turned his attention back to the procession, which was almost upon them then. He could see Bombur’s Rína now and their children, almost directly behind the Princess Dís. The little ones had grown so much Bifur noted with a grin, they were all at least six inches taller than they had been when he and his cousins had left Ered Luin. Judging by the way that his younger cousin was all but bouncing at Bifur’s side, Bombur had spotted his family too.

Dís came to a stop before Thorin, “Hail, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain.”

“Hail, Dís, daughter of Thrain, Princess of Erebor,” Thorin returned solemnly before softening his voice, “Welcome home, _Namaduh_.”

************************************************************************

“Sister, allow me to formally introduce to you my betrothed, Bella Mira Baggins, the Sunrise Princess of Arda,” Thorin said several hours later, once the Royal Family had migrated from the Gates and into the Royal Parlor to unwind. Thorin look tired from having to stand on ceremony for so long but also greatly pleased to have so many of his people back where they belonged.

“Just ‘Bella’ is fine,” Bella quickly interjected with a shy smile.

The Princess Dís was a sight to behold, certainly. She had changed out of her traveling clothes and into a ruby red gown with a square neckline, golden geometric patterns crossing the rich silk fabric, and so many gems that the whole dress sparkled whenever she moved; it one of several that the Tailor’s Guild had made to greet her upon her arrival. She looked very much like her brother, although her ebony hair was a bit longer and had an intricately braided beard to match it and her face was a bit softer than Thorin’s was.

“Long have I looked forward to meeting you,” Dís began, her brown eyes warm as they looked at Bella, “I’ve heard from many different sources, in song and by word, that among the many great things you have done, you stopped Azog from murdering my eldest son in Ravenhill, killed Bolg when he attempted to avenge his father, and ensured my sons and brother were taken to safety before plunging yourself back into a fight that you had previously done everything in your power to prevent. I’ve also been told that Gandalf begged you to leave before the Battle ever began, but that you refused to abandon your kin, your love them unfaltering even during the greatest of tests.”

Bella set her teacup back in its saucer, pressing her memories of Fíli held aloft by Azog, his sword pressed close to Fíli’s back, and of Bolg advancing on her barely conscious brothers and betrothed, Dwalin too far away to help even if he weren’t busy with the Orcs attacking him, down with sheer force of will, “That is all, more or less, true. Hang on, what do you mean _song_?”

“I mean ‘ _The Ballad of the Bél Flower_ ’, of course,” Dís revealed. “Have you not heard it?”

Bella knew from vast experience that her whole face had to be pink as she answered, “Er, no, I have not. I wasn’t aware such a thing even existed.”

“How remiss of us,” Kíli decided, his voice laced with mischief, “My favorite part is the verse where you lecture the trolls about their bad manners for so long that the sun rose and turned them to stone.”

And then he opened his mouth as if to sing it.

“Speak one line of that verse or any of them, _Nadad_ ,” Bella threatened, “And I’m never baking you gingerbread cookies ever again.”

Kíli’s mouth snapped closed at once.

Dís grinned impishly, “You owe me ten gold coins, _Nadad_.”

“What for?” Thorin asked.

“I told you many years ago that your One would a brave warrior with a heart of mithril and the cleverness to match it, did I not?” Dís replied, “I was clearly right.”

“Yes, you were,” Thorin agreed, causing Bella to blush some more.

Dís turned her attention to Tauriel then, “Oh, look at you, dear. You look terrified. By Mahal, Kíli, what _have_ you been telling her about me?”

“Nothing bad,” Kíli assured his mother at once, “It’s all Dáin’s fault; he’s the reason that she hasn’t been allowed in the Mountain until now.”

“I’ll be having words with Dáin about that, believe you me,” Dís promised, “In fact, there are several points of interest that I need him to _clarify_ for me.”

Thorin sighed, “Do try not to kill him.”

“Killing him would be easy and no fun at all,” Dís returned, before turning back to Tauriel, “Risking the wrath of both the Elvenking and a dragon for the sake of my son was no small thing, dear, and you will forever have my gratitude for it.”

Tauriel relaxed with each gentle word that Dís spoke, her eyes shining by the end, “Kíli is the heart of me; I could not have done anything less.”

“I can see that, your love for him is so evident that it is undeniable,” Dís told her, “I will be quite glad to call you my daughter when the time comes.”

A smile broke across Tauriel’s face and Bella decided that she quite liked Dís, daughter of Thrain, very much.

************************************************************************

The gown before Bella was made of several layers of soft pearly-white silk that clearly displayed the hundreds of Khuzdûl runes that had been painstakingly woven into the fabric of the wide skirt with claret thread. Outlining every single rune were tiny fragments of blue diamond, ensuring that the embroidered characters would not be overlooked.

The runes told a story, the tale how of Durin I became the first King of the dwarrow of Arda and how he was so loved by his wife and Queen, taken from the grace of the earth. A subtle way of hinting to the dwarves present at the Durin’s Day Festival that Durin’s One had been, and would be, a Hobbit, something Ori and Bella had found proof of in the Greentongue section of the Great Library a few days earlier. Thorin had been ridiculously pleased by the discovery and was planning on announcing it outright as soon as the two back-to-back festivals were over.

Paired with the floor-length ball gown were several pieces of intricate jewelry, including a diadem and a dozen hair pins, made of white gold and set with blue diamonds of varying sizes as well as a pair of dress boots and a pair of gloves, in the same rich shade as the runes, that stopped just before her elbow.

Bella had just pulled on her satin slip and boots, because putting shoes on while already wearing the gown would be impossible, when she heard a knock at her bedroom door. She walked over and opened it, smiling upon seeing that it was Thorin, dressed in a midnight blue doublet that was studded with blue diamonds and silver, which matched his silver cape, and carrying something wrapped in waxed, golden paper, “Hello, dear heart. I was just trying to figure out how get myself into the gown that I’m supposed to wear tonight. I’m afraid that I’ll become lost in it if I try to do it myself.”

“If you had ladies-in-waiting,” Thorin pointed out, entering her sleeping chamber, “You would not find yourself in such a dilemma.”

Bella wrinkled her nose to conceal the agitation she was feeling, “Thank you, but no.”

“I’ll help you,” Thorin offered, “And then I’ll do your hair, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is,” Bella returned gratefully.

“This is for you,” Thorin offered her the package.

Bella opened it and then raised an eyebrow at the sight of the thick, silver silk bodice within it, noting that it weighed more than your average one would.

“It came to my attention that you were not wearing your mithril coat underneath your dresses because of the cut of their necklines,” Thorin explained, “So I had this designed. There are diamonds sewn between the layers of silk which, while not as invulnerable as mithril, should stop the average knife or sword or arrow from harming you.”

Bella kissed his cheek, “Thank you, my darling.”

Thorin helped her put it on and then assisted her into her gown before guiding her over to her dressing table.

“Dori has informed me that I’ll be wearing a different gown tomorrow and for the memorial _and_ for the opening ceremonies for the fête in Dale,” Bella said as he began to braid her hair, leaving her betrothal braid alone but pulling the rest of her hair back.

“Well, yes,” Thorin shrugged, his fingers never faltering as he twisted Bella’s curls, “Female members of the Royal family are not supposed to wear any dress or outfit more than once a fortnight. It would be seen as a statement that the kingdom cannot provide for you if you were to do so.”

Bella blew out a breath of air in exasperation, “No one told me that. Is there anything else I should know, _Khaeluh_?”

Thorin hesitated.

“ _Thorin_ ,” Bella sighed.

“The Queen Under the Mountain, or the Queen-to-be, is traditionally supposed to have at least four ladies-in-waiting,” Thorin admitted tentatively, “It was not a concern while there were no dwarrowdams to choose from in the Mountain, as Huma and Bania are of the Iron Hills and Arnura and Arníra are your sworn bodyguards, but now that there are…”

“It is one,” Bella finished.

“It’s not a concern quite yet,” Thorin countered, “No one expects you to choose such intimate companions without foreknowledge of their personalities and hearts. Eventually, though, people will begin to wonder why you have not selected ladies-in-waiting and it could cause… tension between you and the other women in the Mountain; they could perceive it as a slight against them. Especially since you are a Hobbit.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Bella demanded in mortification, “Thorin, the _last_ thing I wish to do is insult your people, accidentally or otherwise.”

“I know that, _Sankurd _û_ h_,” Thorin assured, “I hesitated in telling you this only because you seemed almost _horrified_ of the idea when I brought it up last. It seemed as if your reaction stemmed from more than just you being unused to such things.”

Bella bit her lip and then carefully revealed, “Until Tauriel, the only woman I had ever been close to was my mother. Even before it was discovered that I was barren, females in the Shire that were my age tended to give me a wide berth; I was much too wild as a faunt, you see, too prone to playing in the mud and too little interested in dolls and dresses. Both of my grandmothers resented my existence, Laura Baggins and Adamanta Took née Chubb hated each other with a passion and the only reason my parents were allowed to marry was because my mother became pregnant with me. After it was discovered that I could never have children, Adamanta told my mother that I was a _punishment_ from Yavanna for daring to fall in love with a Baggins. Laura was slightly kinder, I suppose, though only because I tried so hard to be respectable so that my father would smile at me and my mother again; it didn’t work though.”

“I rather hate your Hobbit relatives, Bella Mira,” Thorin stated in a gruff voice.

“I find that I don’t care about them one way or the other,” Bella replied, looking at him via her mirror, “I have a beautiful family here that I am quite proud to call my own.”

Thorin smiled softly at her, “It would not be a family if it were not for you, _Ghivashel_.”

“It was easy to befriend Tauriel,” Bella continued, after grinning to acknowledge that statement, “She and I found ourselves united in our desire to protect Kíli and elves, even Thranduil, tend to adore Hobbits as a rule. They look at us, the children of Yavanna, and see walking, talking flowers because of their own closeness to nature. Éowyn, Arwen, and I grew close because of our unified intention to destroy the Ring, but that took time. It was much easier to bond with Gimli and Legolas, to be honest.

“Your sister has been wonderful to me, Gaela and Rína have both been so as well, and Arnura and Arníra are brilliant, but… the majority of your people are either in awe of me, which is ludicrous, by the way, or they are utterly baffled by my customs, which I’m rather used to; I’ve been mystifying the people around me since I was born. I’m either a hero or a curiosity and that would not bode well for any kind of lasting friendships.”

“I’m afraid there is not much I can do about the first,” Thorin said in a dry voice, “You rather fixed your reputation as the savior of Arda when you killed Sauron, Bella Mira. As for the second, if given the proper time, the bemusement will fade.”

“I… alright,” Bella conceded, swallowing her remaining anxiety for Thorin’s sake, “Are there any rules I should be aware of concerning this matter? I’m not going to offend anyone if I choose a dwarrowdam who was born on a full moon in December, or on a Hevensday in June, am I?

Thorin chuckled, settling her tiara upon her head and pinning it in place, “No, _Nanging_ , the choice is entirely at your discretion.”

“Okay,” Bella assented, because it would hardly kill her to branch out more, even if she would rather stay nestled, content, in the safe, little niche that was the relationships she already had.

“There,” Thorin announced, moving his hands away from her hair, “Done.”

He held up Bella’s hand mirror so that it would reflect of the larger one she sat before and so that she could see the result of his work.

“They’re flowers,” Bella cried in delight, “I didn’t know you could even _do_ that with hair. They’re amazing, Thorin.”

There _were_ flowers, two of them, shaped like roses to be precise, that were accentuated by the blue diamond hair pins.

“I’m glad that you like them,” Thorin responded, setting her hand mirror down and picking up that day’s necklace, fastening it carefully around her throat, over top of the one she already wore.

“I love them,” Bella rejoined, standing pulling her gloves on over her bracelets from Fíli and Kíli and her knives, the material of the gloves thick enough that one could barely tell she was wearing the precious ornaments and weapons. Her ruby ring was slipped up the third finger of her left hand and then she fastened Sting and her new dagger around her waist.

“Ready?” Thorin asked, stroking her cheek tenderly.

“Yes,” Bella answered, leaning into his touch, “I am.”

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Umùrad’akar_ _–_ One; Soulmate
  * _Tharkûn_ **–** Dwarven name for Gandalf
  * _Âfkidhuz'abad_ – Moon of the Golden Mountain, (The Tenth Month on Dwarven Calendars)
  * _Ghivashel_ – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
  * _Sankurd _û_ h_ – My Perfect Heart
  * _Nanging_ – Flower
  * _Khaeluh_ – My Wolf
  * _Nûlukhuh_ – My Moon
  * _Gimlilukhuduh_ – My Starlight
  * _Amrâlimê_ _–_ Love of Me
  * _Adad_ – Father
  * _Amad_ – Mother
  * _Idad_ – Uncle
  * _Imad_ – Aunt
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Namaduh_ – My Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I totally meant to get through the Day of Dragon's Reckoning in this part, but Glóin wanted to angst and Thorin and Bella wanted to talk about stuff... it'll be in the next chapter, :)
> 
> Enjoy everyone!
> 
> Here's Bella's hair, in case you were wondering, http://alldaychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Rose-Bud-Flower-Braid-Hairstyle-Tutorial.jpg


	9. Part the Ninth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien said that Durin’s Day was on the 19th of October, so I went with that when I wrote this. The Day of Dragon’s Reckoning is, therefore, on the 20th. I went with the assumption that the BotFA did not occur immediately and so, for the purposes of this story, it started late on the 24th and ended early on the 25th.
> 
> Also, my respect for canon events, particularly the lifespan issue, is minimal. For the purposes of this story, Dwarves can live to be around 350 and Hobbits, Took Hobbits anyway, can live to be 250. Thorin and Bella will grow old together because anything else is utterly unacceptable to me, :). Thorin is 170, because I said so.

**_Chapter Nine_ **

It was a very good thing that Hobbits required less sleep than other races did in order to function, because otherwise Bella would never have been able to drag herself out of her warm and cozy bed the next morning. Certain that Thorin would prefer to sleep on for a while longer, Bella remained quiet as she slipped out of his arms and the bed that they had been sharing for several weeks now. Just to sleep, mind you, because, despite what Bella had allowed her brothers to believe, she and Thorin had not been intimate in the way that lovers were since their original stay in Lake-town; neither of them wished to rush into such things this time around but enjoyed the comfort that holding each other in the night brought. Bella wandered into her kitchen to make a pot of raspberry jasmine tea, one of several lovely blends that Bella had received as a gift from the Queen of Rohan a week earlier, when an convoy of foodstuffs arrived in Erebor from the other kingdom, and found Bombur’s eldest daughter, Nína, perched on top of her table, swinging her feet back and forth as she played with a handful of toys.

“Good morning, Auntie Bells,” Nína greeted cheerfully, setting her dolls aside, “Can I have some joy cake please?”

“So early?” Bella asked, though there was no censure of any kind to be found in the words.

“I’ll need lots of energy to stay awake all the way until tonight, Auntie Bells,” Nína informed her sagely.

“I suppose it’ll be alright,” Bella conceded, moving to fetch one of the _Llawenydd_ cakes that she had prepared several days earlier from the pantry, “As long as you drink some tea with me.”

“With honey and cream?” Nína questioned eagerly.

“Of course,” Bella agreed with a smile.

“Oh, goody,” Nína cheered.

Thick slices of cake served and the sweet tea poured, Bella spoke again, “How do you like Erebor?”

“It’s much nicer than the Blue Mountains,” Nína told her, licking honey off of her spoon, “I have my own bedroom and lots of pretty toys and _Adad_ is much, much, _much_ happier now too. So is _Amad_ ; she really likes being one of Princess Dís’ ladies-in-waiting. Why don’t you have any ladies-in-waiting, Auntie Bells?”

“I don’t know many of the Dwarrowdams in the Mountain very well yet,” Bella replied as she stirred cream into her tea.

“Lady Bliní spoke to you a lot last night,” Nína said, “Is she gonna be one of your ladies-in-waiting?”

“I do not believe that she and I would mesh well together,” Bella answered diplomatically. “I’m quite certain that there are many other posts in the Mountain that she would find more gratifying.”

Which was the polite way of stating that Bella would allow Bliní, daughter of the Lord Blan, to be such an integral part of her life when the land of Mordor froze over. Bella had not been in the Dwarrowdam’s presence for five minutes before Bliní’s hatred of Elves and Men had become painfully evident. Bella strongly suspected that the conceited dwarrowdam had no love of Hobbits either, though Bliní would not dare admit to such a thing in Bella’s presence. Bliní’s reasons for following Bella around the night before had nothing to do with her wishing to get to know the Queen-to-be and everything to do with her to get a chance to insinuate herself in Fíli’s life, whom Bliní evidently held a torch for. So, no, Bliní would not find herself being asked to become one of Bella’s ladies-in-waiting, not ever.

“Okay,” Nína shrugged in an insouciant manner, sticky crumbs catching in the ginger-colored peach fuzz that lined her cheeks, “ _Adad_ said that you’re working on a tapestry that shows the dragon being slain by the Prince. Can I see it?”

“I can fetch it for you to see after we finish eating, if you like,” Bella replied, “I finished it two days ago.”

“Was Smaug very scary?” Nína wondered, “Uncle Bo said that he was like a furnace with wings.”

“Uncle Bo seems to be rather fond of that description, doesn’t he?” Bella quipped in a dry tone and then said, “Smaug was both frightening and powerful; he was beautiful too, in a devastating kind of way. I would not recommend that you ever seek out any dragons, little one.”

“Did you really trick the dragon into looking at you so that Kíli could shoot him?” Nína questioned.

“She did,” Thorin was the one who answered, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and looking ridiculously handsome for someone who had just rolled out of bed. “When our original plan to drown the beast in molten gold failed, your aunt enraged the beast so much with clever words that he reared up on his hind legs, giving Kíli the opportunity to send a black-tipped arrow straight into Smaug’s heart.”

“Freeing Erebor from the reign of the wicked dragon,” Nína finished, her eyes alight with admiration.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded gravely, entering the kitchen and taking a seat beside Bella, “On this very day, one year ago.”

“Were you afraid?” Nína wished to know as Bella poured Thorin a cup of tea.

“Only a fool does not fear a dragon,” Thorin answered, accepting the beverage and caressing Bella’s fingers with his own in thanks for it.

“Uncle Bo and Uncle Bif are going to sell stuffed dragons that look like Smaug in their shop,” Nína announced.

Thorin blinked and looked at Bella, “Remind me to write an edict forbidding that.”

“I will do no such thing,” Bella returned wryly. “After all, all those ‘King Thorin’ toys they’re making will need something to fight.”

“ _King Thorin_ toys?” Thorin echoed, aghast.

“Don’t look so mortified, darling,” Bella rejoined, “There are going to be ‘Bella’ toys too.”

“I suppose that’s not so bad,” Thorin decided, “As long as all those 'Thorins' have a 'Bella' by their sides; they’ll be terribly lost otherwise.”

“You are a _sap_ ,” Bella declared, leaning over to kiss him.

“You taste like raspberries and honey, _Ghivashel_.” Thorin said when Bella had pulled back.

Bella giggled, “That’s exactly the same thing you told me the first time we kissed, you know.”

“I remember,” Thorin murmured.

While in Lake-town, Bombur had cooked several raspberry pies, to celebrate Bella no longer being ill, and Bella, her appetite finally restored after the long weeks spent in Mirkwood, had eaten several slices with honeyed tea. Thorin had kissed her that night, had made love to her for the first time that night too.

Nína sighed happily, “Was it a kiss of true love? Like in the fairy tales?”

Thorin’s eyes never strayed from Bella as he responded absolutely, “Yes, little one, it was.”

************************************************************************

“The tapestry is beautiful, Bél,” Fíli praised, as he spun her around on the dance floor in the _Emùzel Emnithaz_ , “And it deserves the place that Thorin gave it in the Gallery of the Kings.”

The dance was Dwarven, which was to be expected, and one of only two of that kind that Bella knew. Fíli and Kíli had taught it to her in Rivendell, in one of their attempts to show her that Dwarves were much more fun than Elves were. It was exhilarating, and Bella would have feared becoming overheated, especially since she was wearing so many layers of golden silk and an ornate, gilded mask, (Dís had suggested making the Day of Dragon’s Reckoning Festival a masquerade in order to distinguish it from the one held the day before and everyone had loved the idea), but the festival chamber was quite cool, kept that way by an ingenious pipe system that sent ice-cold water rushing through the walls.

“I think that Kíli is a bit flustered by all the attention it has garnered for him though, especially from the Lords’ daughters,” Bella replied, “He’s been all but hiding behind Tauriel for the past hour.”

“He didn’t receive much notice of that kind in the Blue Mountains,” Fíli frowned. “Mostly because of the beard issue.”

“It’ll come with time,” Bella declared, “He just needs to be patient.”

“We are speaking about _Kíli_ , yes?”

“Point taken,” Bella shrugged. “Tauriel does not seem to care one way or another and she’s the one that he’s in love with. By the way, how’s Sigrid?”

Fíli looked at her suspiciously, “Fine. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering, _Nadad_ ,” Bella responded in an innocent tone of voice. “You seem exponentially happier each time that you see her.”

Fíli blushed, which Bella had never seen him do before, nor had she imagined that she ever would, “I… er…”

“Have I upset you?” Bella worried.

“No… no,” Fíli assured her, lifting her into the air briefly as the music called for him to do, “It’s just that, well, I like her, rather a lot, actually.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Bella inquired.

“Hobbits live longer than Men, yes?” Fíli asked in response, his voice rough.

“Yes,” Bella agreed, nonplused by the abrupt query, “Particularly those of the Took bloodline, because they mixed so heavily with the Fae for so long before the Shire was settled; Fairy blood is a potent thing. My grandfather, the Old Took, lived to be almost two-hundred and fifty years old. My lifespan will, baring any unfortunate accidents, most likely match up with your uncle’s.”

Fíli seemed a bit mollified by that, but something was still wrong.

“Fee?” Bella prompted gently.

“She’ll die long before I do,” Fíli revealed sadly, and Bella winced internally at the despair in her brother’s voice.

“Or you could die tomorrow,” Bella said bluntly, causing Fíli to look at her with wide eyes. “None of us are guaranteed even a single minute more than we have already lived, _Nadaduh_. Do not spurn the gift Mahal has given to you out of fear; seventy years with her by your side is infinitely better than never having her at all.”

“I suppose it is foolish to argue with Bella Mira _Dragonriddler_ , is it not?” Fíli remarked lightly, though Bella could see the thoughtfulness in his eyes.

“Indeed, it is, Fíli _Lionsoul_ ,” Bella rejoined, using his new epithet as easily as he had used hers. Thorin had surprised every member of the Company and Tauriel with them, honoring them for their courage in facing down Smaug.

The dance came to an end and Fíli escorted Bella over to Thorin and Balin before disappearing into the crowd.

“Is he alright?” Thorin asked in concern.

“He’s in love,” Bella replied simply.

“Aye,” Balin nodded sagaciously, “That’ll do it.”

“Dance with me?” Thorin requested of her, as an unhurried, almost haunting, melody began to fill the air.

Bella smiled and nodded, letting him lead her back out onto the dance floor to enjoy the only other Dwarven dance that she knew, one that was slower and more intimate that the last had been. Thorin had spent several nights since their reconciliation teaching the complex steps to her, holding her close and humming the tune in her ear.

“If Kíli does not stop looking so terrified,” Thorin murmured a minute later, “My sister will start making inappropriate threats.”

“Their interest in Kíli,” Bella spoke, referring to the Dwarrowdams who hovered near him and Tauriel, tittering in the former’s direction and bashing their eyelashes shamelessly at him, becoming bolder with each passing minute, “Is inappropriate.”

“Granted,” Thorin agreed.

“You need to do something,” Bella decided as one of the Dwarrowdams made a lewd suggestion in Iglishmêk that had Kíli turning scarlet and Tauriel stiffening visibly.

“I’m not the one who wove the tapestry,” Thorin stated.

“No, but you _are_ the one who decided to hang it up where everyone could see it,” Bella retorted, “And the one who named Kíli _Dragonsbane_.”

“A bit of attention isn’t going to kill Kíli,” Thorin responded, far less concerned by the situation than Bella thought he ought to be.

“Thorin,” Bella said sharply, “That is _not_ ‘a bit of attention’. They are callously disrespecting both your nephew and your future niece with their blatant, inapt flirting and they clearly do not care that they are obviously upsetting Kíli and Tauriel with their actions.”

“You’re right,” Thorin realized, grimacing as he looked harder and apparently caught sight of what Bella had seen, namely, even more vulgar Iglishmêk aimed in Kíli’s direction from the boldest of the four Dwarrowdams. “Their actions are bordering on illicit.”

Thorin guided her off the floor and over to Kíli and Tauriel, who both appeared to be immensely relieved and grateful for the backup. Thorin cast a fierce, quelling stare toward the Dwarrowdams, compelling them to curtsey hastily and then run off, their skirts hitched up, with only a single heated glance. It was impressive, of course, though Bella would have preferred to shout and threaten a bit if it had been her job to rescue Kíli and Tauriel. Thorin could not be seen behaving so discourteously toward the daughters of the lords that made up his lower council, who were already irritated enough at being on the lower council instead of the higher one as they had expected to be, no matter that the Dwarrowdams would definitely have deserved the incivility.

“Thank you, _Idad_ ,” Kíli breathed. “They kept following us around.”

“Next time, my sister-son,” Thorin advised, “Tell them that their behavior is unacceptable and unwanted. You are not bound, as Fíli and I are, to pay heed to your words when dealing with the nobility.”

“Wouldn’t it have just been easier if we had been allowed to pick which dwarves got to leave the Blue Mountains to come live here?” Kíli groused. “We did go to all the effort of reclaiming Erebor. I feel like there should have been a vote or something.”

A laugh rang out from Bella’s left and she turned to see a Dwarrowdam with dark silver hair, which was arranged in thick dreads that reached past her waist, smiling at them. There was a pair of much younger Dwarrowdams, both with thin mahogany braids and sporting green eyes, though in different shades, framed by copper masks, behind her.

“Lady Rehíla,” Thorin greeted, “How are you faring?”

“Much better now that I am home where I belong,” Lady Rehíla replied cheerfully, “There is still much work to be done to make Erebor as mighty as it once was, but we are dwarves, cut from stone with bones of iron, and so the work shall be done soon enough and Erebor will be as strong and beautiful as mithril.”

“That is a hope shared by all,” Thorin responded warmly, “Are these your granddaughters?”

“Yes,” Lady Rehíla answered, gesturing for the girls to step forward and curtsey, “My Lací and my Lucí, the daughters of Gudmun, my son.”

Lací and Lucí curtsied elegantly to Thorin, Bella, and Kíli, as was expected of them, and then did the same to Tauriel, which was not. Tauriel looked shocked at the respect afforded to her by the gesture. Few Dwarves, Bella knew, would bother even acknowledging Tauriel before she and Kíli were wed and she was legally considered a Princess of Erebor. They would have to bow to her then, or face the King’s wrath, but Bella did not imagine that all would be pleased about it. Tauriel had probably been resigned to only being liked by the Dwarves of the Company, their spouses, and children; she seemed to be unsure of herself in the face of Lací and Lucí’s warm, sincere grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bella told the young Dwarrowdams, approval coloring her tone, as Thorin and Kíli began to speak to their grandmother about the improvements being made to the numerous heated and chilled mineral pools, which were to be places for the people of Erebor to swim during all seasons.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lací, who possessed the set of eyes that were hued jade, returned in a soft, sweet voice. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”

“We’ve heard so many wonderful things about you, Lady Tauriel _Starbow_ ,” Lucí, whose eyes reminded Bella of sweet basil, announced excitedly before adding, “And about you too, of course, Princess.”

“Just ‘Tauriel’ is fine, Lady Lucí,” Bella’s sister requested.

“Oh, then you _must_ call me ‘Lucí’, please,” Lucí implored. “Have you ever been to Rivendell? I quite wished to go, but _Adad_ said that we couldn’t spare the time.”

“Once,” Tauriel answered, “When I was young.”

Bella focused on Lací as Lucí began to quiz Tauriel about the Valley of Imladris, “Lucí is your younger sister?”

“Yes,” Lací responded with clear fondness, “She is my sunshine, always so full of energy and curiosity.”

Bella regarded Tauriel for a moment, looking relaxed for the first time that evening as she told Lucí about Rivendell’s Hall of Fire, and thought that Lucí’s exuberance was no bad thing.

“I hope that your father is enjoying being back in Erebor,” Bella stated cordially. “Thorin told me that Lord Gudmun provided both money and food for the Quest, though he could not come himself because of his leg injury.”

“Oh, yes,” Lací nodded happily, “ _Adad_ is overjoyed to be back here, in the Mountain. I wish to thank you personally, Your Highness, for without your help, Erebor would have remained lost to us and _Adad_ would not be so very content.”

“My friends call me ‘Bella’. I would very much like it if you did,” Bella offered.

Lací’s eyes lit up, “It would be an honor to do so, Bella.”

************************************************************************

Dori had many things to be thankful for on the twenty-fifth of October, the anniversary of the day that the Battle of the Five Armies had been won. So many souls had been lost during that terrible fight against the Orcs and Goblins, against the darkness that had threatened to consume all light that dared to stand in its path, but none of those whom had fallen in the defense of Erebor and Dale had been members of the Company. His precocious younger brothers, and his clever little sister, and his dearest friends had survived the day, had emerged from the shadow of war alive, if not quite whole. And that was something to celebrate, to thank Mahal for, even as he paid his respects to those who _had_ perished during the course of the Battle.

The morning of the Memorial was passed in quiet, private contemplation, families gathering together in their homes to pay tribute to the fallen in their own ways. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield and their loved ones, inevitably perhaps, ended up converging in Bella’s sitting room. Bombur’s children ended up crowding the closest to their new auntie, whom they adored, listening as Bella told them stories from the Shire, most particularly one about Yavanna’s Fields and the Mountain Kingdom of Mahal which bordered the Green Lady’s lush meadows, and blossoming gardens, and babbling brooks on three sides, sheltering but not veiling the former.

Come two o’clock, people began to emerge from their houses and prepare for that evening’s feast. The copper lamps and great silver lanterns, which were mounted in each hallway and in the arches of the ceilings in every chamber in Erebor, that normally blazed bright at all times, night and day, had been put out, replaced by short, fat candles that sat upon the ground, lining every wall, and casting a soft, warm glow into every corner of the kingdom.

The Memorial Feast had been quite tasteful, with many speeches uttered and songs of remembrance sung to honor the venerated deceased. No hard liquors were drunk, the dwarves of Erebor contenting themselves with wine or cider to prevent any raucous behavior on this day. Supper was a simple fare of pork stew and bread made from the amaranth grain, a meal that the cooks had been able to prepare quickly in the few hours between the early afternoon and the feast.

The feast was long, but its late conclusion did not preclude the Company from reconvening in the Royal Parlor that night. They sat in clusters, taking comfort from one another, speaking softly as the fire from the hearth warmed them.

Bella wandered over to Dori after a bit, having changed out of the dark purple gown that she had donned earlier that afternoon and into one of her nightdresses, her hair lose except for the section plaited into her betrothal braid. She sat beside him and curled up against his side, laying her head against his shoulder.

“A part of me is extraordinarily glad right now,” Bella murmured, “Because everyone that I love survived the Battle. And then I become horrified with myself, because I remember that everyone who fell to the Orcs had family and friends of their own who will be mourning their loss all over again today.”

“It’s Survivor’s Guilt that you feel,” Dori patted Bella’s knee gently, “We all have it, my dear; it’s a natural reaction. But there is nothing wrong with being relieved that you and your loved ones emerged from the Battle alive, as long as you never forget those who did not.”

“I am quite certain that I never could,” Bella admitted, taking Dori’s hand into her own and Dori marveled at how such a tiny hand that seemed so very fragile to look at it could be so quick and strong when it needed to be, “So many perished that day and so many more were terribly injured. I cannot imagine anything worse than the death that was dealt during the fighting, but Thorin has told me that the Battle of Azanulbizar was just that.”

“It was, lassie, it was,” Balin spoke up, coming to sit in the chair across from them, looking, as all of them did, both solemn and relieved at once, “Six thousand Dwarrow marched for the East-gate of Moria and less than five-hundred left the Dimrill Dale when all was said and done. Fifteen thousand Orcs fell to Dwarven axes and hammers and swords, to be sure, but the cost was too high, lassie. If that was victory, then our hands were too small to hold it.”

Dori had not witnessed the Battle of Azanulbizar for himself, he had not been able to leave Nori, fifteen years past his coming of age but with a penchant for trouble that worried Dori deeply, or their sick, pregnant mother, who had barely managed to bring Ori into the world before passing on to the Halls of Mandos and the world beyond this one, but he remembered well the devastation writ upon the faces of every Dwarf that had returned to Ered Luin in the aftermath of it. He also recalled thinking to himself back then that the triumph, if it could even be called that, had not worth it. Thrór had charged upon Moria and the Orcs inhabiting it for the sake of what precious, (wanton), minerals were left within the once great kingdom of dwarrow, a cause that had certainly not seen Mahal’s blessing.

The Battle of the Five Armies had been a nightmare, to be sure, but Dori firmly believed that it could have been so much worse had Thorin not broken from the gold-madness in the eleventh hour, had he not rallied them all to fight, not for gold or gems, but for _home_ and _kin_. That had made all the difference, had given them the spirit to fight against odds which had seemed insurmountable at the time and to _win_. The Line of Durin had endured and now the people of Erebor were home after so many decades of being displaced. The Battle had served one other purpose as well; it had reduced the number of Orcs in the world significantly, making it possible for nine valiant individuals to cross the Wildes without becoming overwhelmed by the foul creatures.

And Dori would forever be grateful for that.

************************************************************************

There was not a cloud to be found in the sky on the first day of the Festival of the Tri-Alliance. The sun shone down upon Dale, banishing the frigid temperatures that had marked the days preceding the beginning of the fête and replacing them with a breeze that was just cool enough to be considered pleasant when combined with the thick, luxurious robes that Ori had donned for the opening ceremonies. His silk doublet was blue and white and studded with sapphires and opals, the same as the nearly all the rest of the male members of the Company, including Thorin. Bella, Dís, Tauriel, Rína, and Gaela wore the same colors, though each of their dresses was shaped and patterned differently. It was a symbol of unification, one that had certainly made an impact, if only on Thranduil, whose eyes could not quite hide his sadness as he looked upon his niece.

Nori was the odd-Dwarf out, wearing non-descript colors in a generic pattern, but then, Ori’s brother wasn’t standing with the rest of their family; he was perched up in a high, secret place, where none could see him but where he could see everyone, on the lookout for any unsavory characters. After all, the Dwarves who had sold Bella out to the Master had still not been discovered. Nori was rather irritated about that particular fact, actually, had spent half of an hour lamenting it as they dressed that morning.

Three kings stood together upon an elevated stone platform, which had carvings of eagles and bears sprawled across it, representing their peoples. It was Bard who spoke to the three kingdoms gathered, having been chosen to do so by virtue of the fact that everyone else had swiftly come to the conclusion, months and months earlier, that neither Thorin nor Thranduil should ever be allowed to speak in so public a place as Dale’s Great Square while in such close proximity to one another, lest they say the wrong thing, accidentally on purpose, and spark yet another feud twixt Erebor and Mirkwood.

Ori had his pen at the ready, poised over thick, ivory parchment, so that he could transcribe every word of the King of Dale’s speech.

“Good morn, all!” King Bard began, his countenance grim but his tone passionate as he spoke, “Welcome to this, the first annual Festival of the Tri-Alliance, a carnival to celebrate the pact of peace and camaraderie that allows Elves, Dwarves, and Men to stand together, to live, to work, to laugh, to fight, and to love in harmony.

“When the Tri-Alliance Accords were signed, a year ago today, a promise between three kings was forged; it was an oath, not just meant for one another but for our kingdoms as well. For kingdoms are not stagnant, lifeless things. They breathe, and live, and grow as the years pass. They blossom with their people and shall wither with them too, for a kingdom can only be as great as the citizens that inhabit it. And just as each individual person needs loyal companionship to thrive, so does every kingdom need dependable allies to truly prosper. The Tri-Alliance is a reflection of this truth- that Dale, Erebor, and the Greenwood are stronger together than they ever could be apart. It was only because we fought _together_ , a year ago, that our peoples and kingdoms prevailed against the evil that sought to destroy us all.

“The Battle of the Five Armies put us to the test in a myriad of ways, not the least of which was whether we could find the strength within ourselves to cast aside the old prejudices that had swayed our hearts and minds for so long and learn to see each other in a new light, see that, despite our differences, we are all the children of the Valar. We did so a year ago and we must continue to do so as the ages pass, for only by trusting in one another shall we be able to ward off those who would seek to bring our kingdoms to ruin.

“This alliance, utterly vital though it is to us all, very nearly did not come to be. Intolerance and avarice almost brought us to ruin but, by the grace of the Valar, we were reminded of that which is truly important in this life- our families, our friends, our homes. And that reminder came in the form of a brave and kind Hobbit, who gave away a fortune immeasurable in exchange for one thing only, that we agree to fight, not as three groups divided, but as one mighty whole. We owe the Sunrise Princess our gratitude for that and for her courage in facing the Enemy; we always shall.”

Ori watched as Bella’s cheeks and neck flushed rose; she despised being singled out. Ori could hardly blame her as he was hardly fond of such things either; he’d been afraid that he was going to throw up when Thorin had called him forward and declared him, ‘ _Battlescribe_ ’, during the Day of Dragon’s Reckoning Festival. Fíli and Kíli must have noticed Bella’s reaction too because they each took one of her hands into one of their own and let her fingers grip theirs tightly, calming her mild distress.

“Over the next three and a half days,” Bard continued unflinchingly, “I implore each and every single one of you to remember that while we may not share the same blood, while our customs may differ, our hopes and dreams are not so dissimilar and that discord cannot be sown into open hearts, for it needs suspicion and insularity in order to cultivate and fester within our souls. Take this opportunity to get to know your neighbors and learn something new. Do not squander this hard-won peace; instead, honor those who gave their lives for it and do something great with it. Feast, laugh, play, and make merry and do it _together_.”

************************************************************************

A veritable mélange of booths lined the Great Square on all four sides, selling all kinds of sugary concoctions, Bella was especially fond of the delicate meringue twists filled with sweet cream, and roasted meats, such as mouthwatering orange-glazed goose, and frothy beverages, like the apple buttermilk she had so enjoyed. Not all the stalls sold food and drink, some featured games, where one could win little trinkets as prizes, and others offered things like palm-reading and quick-portraits, the latter of which Ori was helping to manage.

Just outside of Dale’s Great Square were several enclosed pastures, one of which served as a place for young children to receive pony rides and the other two were put to use as arenas for the many contests that had been arranged to take place during the fête. Already, the wrestling and spear-throwing competitions were in progress; Dwalin had, so far, wiped the floor with every opponent he had faced in the former and Bifur’s accuracy with his boar spear was unrivalled.

There were challenges with more domestic natures as well, baking, cooking, fishing, weaving, and embroidery contests, to name a few. Bella spent a full two hours entertaining a large gaggle of children with a riddle contest that she had come up with on the spot.

There were short skits in Dale’s theatre house, elaborate puppet shows in windows, colorful jesters singing and juggling on street corners, and beautiful ribbon-dancers leaping and spinning around in the lanes. There was storytelling too, on the steps of Bard’s palace, located in the very center of the city. Bella, Fíli, Kíli, Tauriel, and Sigrid all took turns telling stories. Bella told tales of monstrous Trolls, which was a favorite amongst the little ones, and the Ents who served as the shepherds for the old forests of the world.

It was nearing tea time when Bella, flanked by Arnura and Arníra, who refused to allow her out of their sight for even a single moment, ran into Lací just outside the embroidery pavilion, where dozens of hand-sewn designs were being displayed.

“Bella,” Lací greeted warmly, “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“I’m glad to see you as well, Lací,” Bella replied, “I was heading to go find some proper tea, would you care to join me.”

“I would love that,” Lací responded.

“Did you enter the embroidery contest?” Bella asked as they walked back toward the Great Square.

“I did,” Lací answered, “I won a quarter-bolt of vanilla-colored silk for my sea turtle design.”

“I saw your design. It was so beautiful, almost ethereal,” Bella praised, “Have you ever visited the sea?”

“Thank you, Bella, and yes, I went several times to the western sea when I was young,” Lací revealed, “My _Amad_ adored the sea and so _Adad_ took us as often as he could. Have you ever been?”

“No,” Bella grinned wryly, “Hobbits and water do not mix well. I cannot swim, something my brothers and our King find utterly lamentable, I assure you. I’m certain that once the construction on the mineral pools has been completed, they’ll seek to rectify that fact.”

“It is easiest to learn in salt water,” Lací offered, “Because the salt makes the water denser and easier to float in. I believe that _Umad_ told me that the smallest of the seven mineral pools, the Emerald Pool, had the most salt in it. You may find it simplest to begin your lessons in there as opposed to one of the others; it’s one of the four heated pools too, so you will not have to worry about becoming chilled as winter settles in.”

“Thank you, that’s a wonderful idea and…” Bella trailed off as something up high caught her attention by glinting bright in the sunlight. She looked up to see a Dwarf upon a nearby roof, notching an arrow into the bow in his hand; two other Dwarrow stood behind him, looking fanatically determined about what they were doing. Bella followed the arrow’s current trajectory and found herself looking directly at Thorin, who was standing by the stage speaking with Balin and Dís, completely unaware of the danger he was in. “No. Oh, in the name of Eru, _no_.”

She was too far away to garner Thorin’s attention through gesturing and it was much too loud for her to be heard by him at this distance, even if she’d screamed. And so Bella ran, abandoning Lací and her bodyguards without hesitation, weaving her way through the crowd until she reached her betrothed, placing herself in front of his person protectively.

“Thorin, get down!” Bella managed to gasp out in alarm before the arrow, because it _had_ to be the damned arrow, slammed into her back, into her right shoulder, with a force so great that it knocked her straight into Thorin’s arms.

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Ghivashel_ – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
  * _Emùzel Emnithaz_ – Chamber of Cheer
  * _Adad_ – Father
  * _Amad_ – Mother
  * _Idad_ – Uncle
  * _Imad_ – Aunt
  * _Umad_ _–_ Grandmother
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Namaduh_ – My Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadaduh_ – My Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bolt of fabric is between forty to one hundred yards; for the purposes of my story, a quarter-bolt is ten yards.
> 
> If anyone wants to chat or would like to ask a question that you think I won’t answer here, because it might spoil the plot, feel free to email me: soabasworld@yahoo.com.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this part, chapter ten will be up soonish.
> 
> “But no feast nor song was there that night; for their dead were beyond the count of grief… ‘We fought this war for vengeance, and vengeance we have taken. But it is not sweet. If this is victory, then our hands are too small to hold it.’” – J.R.R. Tolkien


	10. Part the Tenth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning – this chapter contains Dwarven Justice, and that means when someone attempts to murder the King, that someone is going to die.

**_Chapter Ten_ **

A part of Bella had expected there to be chaos in the wake of the assassination attempt. She hadn’t expected the sheer, unadulterated horror that swept over nearly everyone in Dale as they learned of what had occurred.

Several people had noticed Bella’s mad dash to Thorin’s side and had turned to find out why she appeared to be so frantic and they, subsequently, saw the arrow pierce the back of her gown and presumably, because they had no way of knowing better, her shoulder as well. News of the event spread faster than even the most frenzied dragonfire; even as Thorin pulled Bella into one of the empty stores behind the nearest line of booths, Balin and Dís right behind them, people were beginning to panic.

“Balin, fetch Óin and Dwalin now!” Thorin’s voice was thick with desperate fear as he began to tear the right shoulder of Bella’s gown apart.

Balin immediately ran to do just that, before Bella could get out that Óin’s talents really weren’t necessary.

“Thorin,” Bella kept her voice low and soothing, “I’m fine, I promise. The arrow hit my diamond armor.”

“So it did,” Thorin breathed out, utterly relieved, as he saw this truth for himself, “Thank Mahal.”

“It may not have pierced your flesh, but you’ll still have one hell of a bruise tomorrow,” Dís remarked, her voice shaky with what Bella assumed was adrenaline, “That was no stray shot; the force behind it was too great for this to have been an accident.”

“There were three Dwarves up on one of the rooftops,” Bella revealed as Thorin pulled the arrow out of her armor and examined it, “I recognized one of them, though he wasn’t the archer.”

“You jumped in front of the arrow to save me,” Thorin’s tone was bland and his face expressionless, his words were a statement of fact rather than a question.

Bella answered him anyway, “Yes.” Thorin opened his mouth, but Bella cut him off, “Don’t you dare tell me that I shouldn’t have, because all you’ll accomplish by doing so is that you’ll have pissed me off and it _won’t_ stop me from doing it again if need be.”

Thorin snapped his mouth shut in furious resignation as his sister snorted once in shocked amusement.

“Honestly, Thorin, I’m _fine_ ,” Bella sighed, shifting closer so that he could hold her properly, “A bruise is nothing and the armor you made me protected me from any real harm.”

“You would have stepped in front of that arrow even if you hadn’t been wearing the armor,” Thorin accused in a tight voice, his arms like steel bands as they cradled her.

There was no defense Bella could mount against that claim so she settled for saying, “Well, I _was_ wearing my armor. And really, darling, the only time I’m not protected by either diamond or mithril is when I’m sleeping, or lollygagging about some part of the Royal Wing before luncheon, or, you know, bathing. So, the chances of me having to step in front of an arrow when I’m not wearing armor are really quite slim, _Khaeluh_.”

The room suddenly became very crowded as nearly all of Bella’s brothers, her sister, Thranduil, Bard, and his children rushed inside. They all looked absolutely terrified and wrathful and Bella wondered what, exactly, they had heard about the event.

“Three Dwarves tried to kill Thorin,” Bella explained quickly, to stave off the frantic questioning, “An arrow did hit me, but it hit my armor. I’m fine, Thorin’s fine, and you all need to calm down now.”

They didn’t look particularly calm, in the wake of Bella’s edict, but they did seem less terrified, so that was something.

“I want to see you shoulder,” Óin’s tone brooked no room for argument so Bella decided to gracefully give in and let him examine it.

“People are panicking,” Bard declared, relief plain to see in his eyes, “They believe that their Sunrise Princess has been murdered, struck in the heart with an arrow. They’re very upset.”

“It was my right shoulder,” Bella said with a slight frown. She believed Bard, she knew that the people of Erebor, Dale, and the Greenwood deeply cared for her, but it still mystified her. She was not the only one who had defied Sauron, after all, “Not my left. And I’m not injured. If you like, you can go tell them that I’m perfectly alright, that there was a minor crisis that is being dealt with, and that no one needs to worry.”

“A _minor_ crisis?” Bard echoed, “You were _shot_.”

“Accidentally,” Bella rejoined, “Technically, anyway. Which is what you need to tell everyone. This could taint the rest of the fête otherwise.”

Bard nodded, marching out of the store, his cape swishing around, with Sigrid hot on his heels.

“When the culprits are arrested, they’ll have to stand trial,” Balin pointed out, “The truth will come out then.”

“At which point we’ll remind everyone that didn’t Bard lie to them,” Bella replied, “Shooting me _was_ an accident. I wasn’t the target.”

“Your shoulder is going to ache terribly come morning,” Óin huffed at Bella, “It’s already starting to bruise, so I know it has to feel sore.”

“Yes, alright,” Bella conceded, “Not injured _badly_ then.”

“You should not have been injured at all,” Thranduil snapped, and turned to Óin, “She needs to drink tea made from the bark of the White Willow; it will alleviate the pain almost entirely.”

Óin looked torn between gratitude and contempt at the suggestion, if it could be called that, so Bella spoke up, “My mother used to make it for me. I was often covered in bruises as a faunt, because I liked to romp around in the woods and climb trees so much.”

Óin nodded, “I’ll prepare some for you to drink tonight, lass.”

“I want to know who did this,” Dwalin said gruffly, his patience having worn out.

“Three Dwarves,” Bella illuminated, “Two of them I didn’t recognize, but the other… it was Lord Grijak.”

Dwalin growled furiously, “That fucking bastard! Thorin just returned his family’s title to him!”

“I recognized the other two,” Lací spoke up, “They were the Lords Zukarí and Iriní.”

“My sister and I saw them too,” Arnura added, “We didn’t recognize any of them, but we’ll be able to identify them if need be.”

“Why would they do something like this?” Tilda demanded tearfully as she clung to Bain’s arm.

“They meant to hurt Thorin,” Bella explained gently.

“But, _why_?” Tilda repeated.

“We don’t know exactly why yet,” Thorin told her in a soft voice, “But I imagine that they were angry about something; most likely about the Tri-Alliance, or at least my part in it.”

“Why do you think that?” Bain questioned.

“A Dwarf without any true knowledge of Elven weaponry, which is true of most Dwarrow, admittedly, would believe this arrow to be of Elven design,” Thorin commented, as he held up the arrow meant to kill him for everyone else to see, “Unfortunately-” Bella elbowed him in his side and he amended his statement quickly, “I mean, as _providence would have it_ , I’m well aware that no Elf would ever fire an arrow such as this one. It bears no markings, either personal or of allegiance to a kingdom or cause. There are also no remnants of Elven Grace upon the shaft, fletching, or arrowhead either.”

“You can feel Elven Grace?” Thranduil questioned in surprise.

“Since you saved my life when I was a child, yes,” Thorin admitted.

Bella blinked in surprise; there was definitely one hell of a story behind that.

“I did not think that you remembered that,” Thranduil murmured. “You were very young.”

“When did this happen?” Dís demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Grandfather forbid it,” Thorin replied, and Bella saw understanding flash in Dís’ eyes. Thrór’s disdain for Elves was legendary even amongst Dwarves.

“Why can’t an Elf fire an arrow without markings?” Fíli asked.

“Because it would be an affront to Eru for an Elf to kill anyone, at least in battle or any other situation where the kill is _planned_ , with an unmarked weapon,” Tauriel answered, “Because all life is sacred and there must be a reason for taking it. The markings are not always personal; Orcrist and Sting, for example, bear Elven markings that speak of an allegiance to a cause, specifically the divine protection of innocents against Orcs and Goblins. That is why they both glow near Orcs and Goblins, when most other Elven swords and daggers do not; they want to fulfill their purpose.

“Glamdring doesn’t glow,” Bella stated. “Neither do the daggers that Lord Elrond made me, though the markings on the knives are identical to Sting’s.”

“Glamdring’s purpose in Arda is different from Orcrist and Sting’s,” Thranduil interjected, “It was fated to find Mithrandir and shall only glow once, when the time is right. Your daggers will begin to glow as they age; they are young yet and Elrond’s magic has not fully settled into them.”

“What happens if you run out of arrows in a battle?” Glóin asked Tauriel.

“That is an extremely rare occurrence,” Tauriel told him, “Elven quivers are enchanted to call their arrows back into them once each arrow’s target has been killed.”

“That’s… impressive, lassie,” Glóin replied, with some surprise, though whether he was astonished by the magic of Elven quivers or his own admiration of said quivers, Bella couldn’t tell.

“So,” Bain was frowning at Thorin, looking remarkably like his father in that moment, “A trio of Dwarven lords tried to murder you with an arrow that most would assume was Elven in the middle of Dale. If their plot had succeeded… it would have ended the Tri-Alliance. It could have even sparked a war. What could they possibly have hoped to gain from that?”

“Not everyone is pleased about Erebor having tied itself so profoundly to Dale and the Greenwood,” Ori murmured, “There’s a minority of Dwarves in the Mountain, particularly those hailing from the traditionalist families, who would prefer that things go back to the way things were before.”

“You mean when everyone was scared, and cold, and hungry all the time?” Tilda wondered. “We wouldn’t have survived last winter if we hadn’t helped each other.”

“I never said that they were smart,” Ori shrugged.

“I have a question, well, two questions, technically,” Bofur spoke up, and when everyone looked at him, “Where’s Nori and why is he not here?”

“Sorry for being late to the party,” Nori announced, as if on cue, from the doorway, hauling two trussed-up Dwarves into the room and throwing them at Thorin’s feet. He had a small cut on his cheek, but that was nothing compared to the way the other two Dwarrow looked. “I was a bit preoccupied.”

“Those aren’t the Dwarves who were on the roof,” Bella noted.

“No,” Nori agreed, “These are their friends, the Lords Kumar and Jaksí, who were poised on another roof planning to murder Kíli.”

Bella felt the blood drain from her face and her breath hitched in her throat as she swung her eyes to Kíli, who was unharmed, of course he was, he had rushed into the building with all of the others worried about her. Her eyes flickered back to the half-unconscious Dwarves prone on the floor and felt a heated wrath begin to overtake her person; she had one of her knives flicked out into her palm before she even realized that she wanted it out.

Thorin grasped her wrist firmly, “No, _Ghivashel_. They have been subdued; we cannot kill them until they have received a trial.”

Fuck that, these bastards had planned to hurt, to kill her _brother_ , to injure Kíli, who had taken one look at a damaged Hobbit from the Shire and decided that she was worth something, who had refused to pay any heed to decades worth of ingrained prejudice regarding the Quendi and had listened to the call of his heart as soon as he had heard it. They were just as dead as the sorry excuse for Dwarves that had meant to harm Thorin would be when Bella got her hands on them.

“Fine,” Bella retorted waspishly, “I promise that when I stab them in their throats, I’ll take care not to kill them.”

“No one is stabbing anybody,” Kíli spoke up, and Bella realized that he was holding on to Tauriel and Fíli, who both looked livid. Dís looked pretty damn angry as well, and Balin was the one holding her back, “Or shooting anybody. We’ll handle them once the festival is over; there’s been enough drama already today and we need to focus on calming everyone down. Our people will be looking to us, you know that they will.”

Kíli was right, of course. If the Royal Family of Erebor was furious and vengeful, so would the rest of the Dwarven populace be. And if the Dwarves were angry, the fragile accord between the three kingdoms could easily be swept away. Bella and her kin needed to exit the building, and soon, with their heads held high and with confident smiles on their faces. Anything less could spark a diplomatic nightmare.

“What about Grijak, Zukarí, and Iriní?” Dori fretted, “They’ll have run off in the confusion.”

“They won’t get far,” Dwalin swore lowly.

“Take Arnura and Arníra with you,” Thorin ordered, “Since they saw the Dwarves and can identify them. Nori, can you get these two into the dungeons without being seen?”

“Piece of cake,” Nori assured him.

“Excellent, please do so.” Thorin instructed, “For now, everyone except Bella and Dori needs to go outside and pretend that everything is perfectly alright. Further discussion can wait until tonight, understood?”

“Why am I staying in here?” Bella asked, flicking her knife back into its holster.

“Your gown,” Thorin reminded.

“Oh, right,” Bella replied as calmly as she was capable of in that moment, “You ripped it.”

“The arrow ripped it,” Thorin said.

“The arrow created a very tiny tear in it,” Bella countered dryly, “You tore the entire shoulder off in a panic.”

“You’d just been shot!” Thorin exclaimed without heat.

“I shan’t be able to fix it from in here,” Dori chimed in, “The damage to the fabric is too great.”

“Will this help?” Sigrid reentered the room, holding a shawl of white fur, “As long as it stays wrapped around your shoulders, the tear will be hidden and it will appear as if your dress was fixed and you simply became chilled.” Sigrid handed the shawl to Bella, “Da thinks it best if you come out as soon as possible, Bella, so that everyone can see for themselves that you’re alright. Half of the people out there still think that you’re dead.”

“Oh,” Bella breathed in a huff, “Wonderful. Dori, can you help me pin this in place?”

“Of course, dear,” Dori answered.

************************************************************************

“Well?” Thorin demanded from his place on Bella’s sofa as Dwalin and Nori entered Bella’s suite. Bella was cradled in his lap, drawing something on parchment, looking for all the world as if she weren’t upset by the day’s tumultuous events at all.

Dwalin knew better though, he could see how tight her grip on her lead pen was, could see, too, how she had positioned herself so that her body was blocking Thorin’s left side, was protecting his heart, and he’d seen how her gaze flickered over to Kíli at least three times since Dwalin had entered her sitting room. His fierce little sister, ready to do _anything_ to protect her loved ones, even dive in front of flying arrows.

“All five of the would-be assassins are sittin’ pretty in the dungeons,” Dwalin reported as he flopped ungracefully down into one of the room’s fancy, but strong, chairs, “They confessed to everything too.”

“Really?” Bella sounded incredulous.

“They had a bit of persuasion to help ‘em along, of course,” Dwalin admitted.

Bella’s eyes caught sight of the red staining his hands and she raised an eyebrow at him, “I see. How much ‘persuasion’, exactly, was required before they gave in?”

Dwalin shrugged, “Enough.”

Bella nodded in acceptance of that and turned her attention back to her sketch. Apparently, Bella’s qualms about torture as an interrogation technique were dismissed entirely when those being _questioned_ had previously attempted to hurt her family. Dwalin wasn’t surprised by this; Bella’s opinions about a great many things had changed radically for the sake of her kin.

“Did they deign to tell you why they planned to kill my sister-son and me?” Thorin wanted to know.

“Aye,” Dwalin hesitated before revealing, “They wanted to rid Erebor of those who, and I’m quoting Grijak, the mastermind of the whole plot, here, ‘would dare to taint the purity of Durin’s Folk by marryin’ outsiders.’”

“ _Durin’s_ wife was a Hobbit,” Fíli pointed out, “So, if you think about it, the line of Durin has never been _pure_. It’s always had Hobbit blood in it.”

“Grijak and his associates are convinced that Ori made that discovery up,” Nori replied from his perch on the back of Bofur’s chair, “Your brother and uncle were not their only targets, Fíli, just their first. They had a list; we were all on it.”

“Because you all claimed me as your sister,” Bella deduced, frowning.

“Because they’re fucking morons,” Dwalin retorted, “And they’re gonna pay for their idiocy, I can promise you that.”

“There’s something else,” Nori illuminated, “Grijak is the one who tipped the Master off about Bella going to Dale the day that the two of you were kidnapped, Thorin.”

“ _What_?” Thorin voice was nothing but ire and the furious need for vengeance.

“I suppose we really ought to thank him then,” Bella quipped lightly, placing a calming hand on Thorin’s cheek, “Since you could have continued on being a stubborn dunderhead for much longer otherwise.”

Thorin settled somewhat under Bella’s gentle caresses and firmly told her, “There is no circumstance in which I will ever be grateful to someone who endangered your life.”

“What will happen to them?” Tauriel asked. She was all but clinging to Kíli, and Dwalin could see the anger simmering just below the surface of her cool mask.

“There will be a trial,” Balin answered, “Though, at this point, it shall be nothing more than mere formality. There is only one appropriate punishment for the attempted murder of a member of the Royal Family and that is death by the axe.”

“Will the executions be public?” Bella questioned, passing the parchment in her hand over to Ori to examine.

“They were public in the Blue Mountains,” Glóin remarked, “But, these will be the first in Erebor since the reclaiming.”

“They were public in my grandfather’s time,” Thorin stated, “I had not thought to decide whether or not executions were to continue to be so. There hasn’t been a need until now.”

“Many will consider it their right to witness the deaths of those who would dare try to harm their King and Prince,” Dís reminded. She was polishing a set of throwing knives, looking _this_ close to marching herself down to the dungeons and tearing the balls off of all five of the criminals inside it.

Thorin nodded, “I don’t want Bella to-”

“Finish that sentence, Thorin,” Bella threatened mildly, “And you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

Thorin, rather wisely, shut up.

“This is really good, Bella,” Ori handed the picture back to her, “Are you going to weave it next?”

“Yes,” Bella returned, “I think so.”

Fíli leaned over Thorin’s shoulder to see the image that Bella had drawn, “It’s the three Kingdoms, surrounded by flowers.”

“It’s called Lemon Beebrush,” Bella explained, “It means ‘unity’ in the language of the flowers.”

“Quite fitting,” Dori said.

“And the Greentongue runes along the edges?” Fíli wondered.

“It’s a poem,” Bella told him before reciting,

“‘ _Let bloom the flowers of peace,_

_Your hate and fear – release._

_For though we all sing a different tune,_

_We all need the sun and moon._ ’”

“That’s beautiful,” Bofur praised.

Bifur signed a moment later, ‘ _Who wrote it?_ ’

“My mother,” Bella replied softly.

“Bella,” Bombur called from the doorway of the kitchen then, “I think that your cookies are done.”

Bella hopped lightly off of Thorin’s lap, who tensely watched her disappear into the kitchen and only relaxed again when she reappeared with a tray of cooling biscuits in her hands a minute later. Bella set the tray down on the low table in the center of her plush chairs and sofas as Bombur carried over mugs of warm vanilla honey milk.

Dwalin reached for a cookie immediately but froze when Bella said sharply, “Dwalin _Kingsarm_ , don’t you dare touch any food until you’ve scrubbed your hands clean. Who knows what kind of foul things those horrible bastards have tainting their blood.”

“Yeah, Dwalin,” Kíli agreed, “They could have parasites. I really wouldn’t risk it.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes but marched off to the kitchen to wash his hands. There was no way he was missing out on his _Namadith’s_ baking.

************************************************************************

The remainder of the festival passed without any great incident and was an utterly splendid way to for the peoples of the three Kingdoms to get to know one another off of the field of battle and without the restraints of diplomatic procedures. For the Royal Family of Erebor, though, the merriment induced by the fête was laced with an undercurrent of solemnity. As the festival came to a close, another, graver, matter was brought to the forefront of their minds- the first criminal trial of King Thorin’s reign Under the Mountain.

The Dwarven justice system was something that Bella, for all that she was kin to Dwarves, had very little knowledge of. She knew about banishment, of course, and that it meant that the one banished would not be welcome in _any_ kingdom of Dwarrow which considered Erebor its ally, as per Dwarven tradition, but that was the extent of her knowledge, and she had only gleaned that by necessity. Bella had never been to any kind of trial either, Dwarven or otherwise, because crime was a very rare occurrence in the Shire and there had been no reason for a trial in Erebor before now.

“It’s a fairly straightforward business. There are three levels when it comes to charges levied against a criminal,” Balin had explained the night before the trial, “First tier, second tier, and third tier. Third tier is the least serious type of crime- petty theft, vandalism, and other things of that ilk; community service of some sort is typically the sentence passed. Second tier encompasses major theft, domestic abuse, and the like; the punishment for these ranges between jail time, loss of limb, and banishment. First tier is reserved for the most grave crimes- attempted murder, actual murder, threats of any sort to the Royal Family; there is only ever one penalty for a first tier crime and that is death. Thorin will announce the charges, listen to the defense of the accused, if they have any, and decide whether or not they are guilty. He will then pass judgment upon them, to be carried out immediately.”

“If the Dwarves who tried to kill Thorin and Kíli are going to be executed, regardless of what happens tomorrow, then why does there have to be a trial?” Bella had asked.

“It is the right of the people to know what crimes have been committed in their home and to see that justice is being done,” Balin had answered.

Bella had donned a sharply-cut black and white dress to wear to the trial, with onyx jewelry set in black gold. Her strawberry-blonde curls, save for that which was plaited into her betrothal braid, had been twisted up into a complex bun by Thorin that morning. The severity of her garb had startled her when she’d looked into the mirror, but she had supposed that it was only fitting, given the circumstances.

The chamber where the trial was to be held, the _Balil Emùzel Melhekhaz_ , was enormous and circular with a great domed ceiling into which the Crest of Durin was carved. The seats were staggered, like stairs; the farther away from the center of the room, the more highly elevated that the seats were. Nearly all the males who lived in the Mountain were present to witness the spectacle, though very few Dwarrowdams and absolutely no children were.

She was seated amidst the majority of her brothers in a closed-off section reserved for the Royal Family, tucked in between Bofur and Nori, with Dís on Nori’s right and Dáin on Bofur’s left. Kíli, Tauriel, Bifur, and Bombur were in front of her and Óin, Glóin, Dori, and Ori were seated behind her; numerous guards, including Bella’s, surrounded them. This had all undoubtedly been prearranged; no disgruntled family member of one of the accused could get to her without having to go through the already pissed off guards, who were all now very aware that Bella had risked her life to save their King, and her overprotective kin.

Fíli and Balin were standing by Thorin’s side on the dais, where a less opulent and more imposing version of the throne sat. Guards, including Dwalin, were positioned in strategic places around the three, with Dwalin the closest. Two large basins of oil burned bright on each of the front corners of the dais and before it was a heavy block of dark-stained wood.

A gong sounded and Thorin, his expression as solemn as stone, nodded at the pair of Dwarrow who stood at the far end of the chamber, guarding a set of heavy obsidian doors. The Dwarves responded at once, sliding the doors ajar to reveal Grijak, Zukarí, Iriní, Kumar, and Jaksí, their wrists and ankles manacled and their skin still bruised from Dwalin and Nori’s interrogations. They were escorted into the heart of the chamber by a small contingent of guards. One other Dwarf entered the chamber as well, though he stayed back by doors, a tall Dwarf who was clothed in black and hooded so that only his dark eyes showed; he had a huge axe strapped to his back.

“ _Kurushif Nîd_!” Thorin barked at the accused, and when the Dwarrow before him did not immediately obey, the guards who had ushered them before the King were more than happy to force the traitors, who looked sullen and contemptuous, to their knees.

“The five of you stand accused and have confessed to the attempted assassination of your King and of your Prince,” Thorin announced gravely, “You have admitted to planning the murders of your Crown Prince, the Sunrise Princess of Arda, and your High Lords. It also was your intention to start wars with our allies, the Kingdoms of Dale and the Greenwood, which could have resulted in the deaths of _thousands_. You have committed treason of the highest order. Do you have anything at all to say in your defense?”

“We are not the traitors,” Grijak spat at him, “ _You_ are. You have tainted the sacred Kingdom of Erebor by accepting outsiders into the Mountain, by taking a _Halfling_ as your betrothed. And your nephew is no better! He means to wed a _Khathuzhinh_ _Dashunâl Mabaraz_ _!_ ”

Well, if Thorin hadn’t already been planning on having Grijak killed, he certainly was now, Bella thought.

“The women that you dare offer insult to were instrumental in reclaiming this kingdom,” Thorin growled out, “If not for them, Erebor would still be under the control of Smaug.”

“The Halfling is a traitor!” Zukarí, the archer whose arrow had struck Bella in Dale, exclaimed scornfully, “She stole the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain! She took your very right to rule and gave it to your enemies and yet she is treated as if she were anything more than a cowardly and treasonous thief.”

“My right to rule,” Thorin echoed, “I suppose, by that reasoning, that you believe that Thrór must not have had any right to the throne until after the gem was unearthed. Do you also dare suggest that _Durin’s_ kingships were never legitimate either?”

Zukarí hesitated, “Of course not, but-”

“No person who would serve me and mine for the sake of a single _rock_ is welcome in my kingdom,” Thorin declared thunderously.

Bella inhaled sharply.

“If he was going for blunt and shocking,” Bofur muttered lowly, “I’d say that he certainly succeeded.”

“The King’s Jewel is an heirloom of our people,” Grijak protested hotly.

“The Arkenstone has brought nothing but misfortune to Erebor and her people,” Thorin countered. “It drove my grandfather mad and his insanity, in turn, summoned a dragon to these halls. That gem holds a dark power over Dwarves, Men, and Elves alike; as far as I am concerned, it is to blame for Smaug’s descending upon these lands. As long as I am King Under the Mountain, that cursed stone shall never again see the light of day.”

“Lookie there,” Bofur murmured in astonishment, “He’s managed it again.”

“I ask you again and for the final time,” Thorin forged on, “Do you have anything to say in defense of your actions?”

This time the accused Dwarrow were silent, glaring at Thorin unrepentantly.

“Grijak, son of Grij, Zukarí, son of Zephrí, Iriní, son of Oriní, Kumar, son of Kum, and Jaksí, son of Talsí,” Thorin’s countenance was that of stone once more, “On this, the fourteenth day of _Â_ _fdo_ _hy_ _ar_ , you have been charged with high treason against the crown and adjudged guilty. For such a crime there is only one sentence I can pass onto you- _Amrad_ _Shekâlaz_.”

“Coward’s Death,” Nori translated softly for Bella, because that wasn’t a phrase she had heard before. “Cowards do not die with honor; the accused will lose their beards and head hair before being executed.”

Bella stiffened in surprise at that. She vividly recalled the appalled and devastated looks that she had received from her Dwarven kin the one and only time that she had attempted to cut her hair during the Quest; Fíli and Kíli hadn’t given her back her knives for a week, terrified that she would try again to shorten her wild curls despite her promise that she wouldn’t. The Company’s horror at witnessing Thorin shear off her original betrothal braid had, Bella realized in retrospect, been so great of a shock to their persons that it had knocked them out of their mild cases of gold-sickness.

Hair was sacred to the children of Mahal and there were many who considered being shorn to be a fate worse than death. A number of Dwarrow, Bella noted, looked away as the traitors, despite their fierce struggling, lost their hair, one by one.

When all of it was gathered, red, black, and brown, in one large pile, Thorin gave another instruction, “ _Tursiki_ _Khi_.”

The hair was then fed into the fires burning before the dais, blazing bright momentarily before being reduced to ash within seconds. As the locks were destroyed, the Dwarrow hooded in black stepped forward, the light from the fires glancing off of the blade of his axe, which he now held in his hands.

“ _Imrid Amrad Ursul, Kalilâl Melhekh Undu ‘Abad_!” Grijak cursed, the only one of the traitors who had not been completely cowed by the shaving, eliciting furious shouts from a great many of the Dwarves gathered.

Thorin nodded at the guards and they dragged Grijak forward to the thick, wooden block. Leather straps were wound around Grijak’s neck and he was made to lean over the block, the straps attached to the base of it to hold the Dwarf in place. A moment later, the executioner raised his axe, waiting, and then Thorin made a sharp cutting motion with his arm.

And then the axe was brought back down.

************************************************************************

Not protesting Bella’s decision to witness the executions had been a mistake.

She had seen death before, had taken lives even, but that had been in the heat of battle, while her heart and mind had been more heavily occupied with defending herself and her kin than it was with the death around her. Formal executions were a vastly different thing, though, and Thorin should have realized how negatively it would affect Bella, seeing five Dwarves who could not fight to defend themselves killed, no matter that they were traitors and would-be murderers.

He should have pressed for her to remain ensconced within the Royal Wing while the executions took place. Perhaps then she would not have spent the past two and a half hours weaving furiously at her loom, unwilling to eat, her concentration almost entirely consumed by recalling the events of the day.

Mind you, it was mesmerizing, the way that Bella’s nimble fingers danced with unerring precision across the threads as the tapestry began to really take shape. Already, Thorin could make out a beautiful line of swirling Greentongue across the top and the tip of a mountain; he would have placed money on it being Erebor’s peak. Thorin rather wished that he could watch her weave without her being so distressed though.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bella spoke up, catching Thorin off-guard.

“What?”

“You’re thinking that I shouldn’t have stayed for the executions.”

“You’re very upset, _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin offered by way of explanation, moving off of the bed to kneel before her and take his hands into his own.

“It wasn’t that they died that bothered me,” Bella revealed in a prosaic manner, “They attempted to _murder_ you, Thorin, and they wanted to kill Kíli too and for those crimes I would have swung the axe myself had it been necessary. The formality of the executions just… brought back memories that I had suppressed, rather on purpose, some time ago.”

“Memories?” Thorin questioned tentatively.

“I’ve seen an execution before, in the Shire,” Bella illuminated, “When I was a young girl, when I was nine years old, actually. Two boys, barely out of their tweens, were stoned to death one winter. They’d been caught together and, when they refused to forsake each other and marry the girls that their families had chosen for them… they were killed, by order of the Thain.”

“They were executed for _being in love_?” Thorin knew that he must have looked as horrified as he sounded.

“I would be executed for the same if I ever reentered the Shire,” Bella told him softly, and Thorin tightened his grip on her hands, anger and no small amount of fear crashing through him at that particular reminder. “It’s illegal in the Shire for two males, or females, for that matter, to love one another in that way for the same reason that I was forbidden to ever marry- the unions could never produce faunts.”

“You don’t have a problem with same-sex pairings,” Thorin noted.

“My mother was adamant that there was nothing wrong with them,” Bella explained, sliding off of the bench and into Thorin’s lap, “She said, often, that it was wrong for any person to judge the way that Yavanna had designed each of her sons and daughters to love. She did everything in her power to convince her brother to change his mind, to stop those boys from being executed, but my uncle had just inherited the Thainship from his father and was unwilling to ‘stir up trouble’, as he put it. My mother never spoke to him again, after that.”

“I am surprised that she allowed you to witness the stoning,” Thorin murmured into Bella’s curls.

“None of the faunts were supposed to be present for it, that I was there was an accident,” Bella admitted. “I’d been playing in the woods and came across the execution on my way home. When I saw the blood… I started screaming. One of my uncles carried me home to my parents, though I don’t remember which one. I was inconsolable for weeks and I refused to leave my mother’s side for months after the fact.”

“I deeply regret that you had to see something so terrible,” Thorin said mournfully, “Especially at such a young age, _Ghivashel_.”

“I didn’t remember it until today,” Bella sighed, “Which is probably for the best; holding onto those memories would not have been in the least bit healthy. I almost certainly would have screamed in Dwalin’s face when he showed up at Bag End if I _had_ recalled them.”

Yes, Thorin could imagine that she would have. “I would prefer,” Thorin requested carefully, “If you were to never witness another formal execution again. It is not a charge that the Queen of Erebor has ever been required to fulfill; neither my mother nor my grandmother ever attended any affairs of that nature.”

“Dís was there today,” Bella pointed out.

“My sister is not you,” Thorin replied, “She has been hardened by grief in a way that I hope you never shall be.”

“I don’t want your people believing that I’m weak, Thorin,” Bella told him in an undertone.

“There is little chance of that,” Thorin promised, “No one who knows even the most basic things about you would ever imagine you to be frail or fragile, _Madtithbirzul_.”

“I’ll stay away from the formal executions from now on, as long as you promise me something,” Bella said after a long moment.

“What is that?” Thorin inquired.

“That you will never ask me not to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe,” Bella answered, “Or to stay behind while you go off to fight in some battle. You never try to keep me from being at your side, where I belong, during times of peace _and_ times of war.”

That was not an oath that Thorin particularly wished to make to her, but he knew when to press and when to concede and this was definitely a fight he would never win, and so he swore, “You have my word, Bella.”

Bella kissed him sweetly, “Thank you.”

“Would you like to learn Khuzdûl?” Thorin asked, “Formally, I mean. I know that you’ve been informally learning it for some time now.”

Bella looked surprised, “I thought formal lessons weren’t allowed.”

“I’ve come to believe that our isolation and secrecy has done us little good, if it breeds people like Grijak,” Thorin explained. “Besides, you’re a member of the Royal Family and you’re going to be the Queen. You should know the language of the _Khazâd_. I’m going to ask Tauriel to learn it, as well, and Sigrid, if Fíli ever gets his act together.”

“I would love to learn,” Bella assured him. “Who will be teaching me?”

“Balin,” Thorin replied, “He taught me and, well, most of the members of the Company, actually. Teaching was his first love and he’s glad for the chance to get back to it; advising me was something that necessity pushed him into.”

“He’s good at advising though,” Bella stated.

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, “And he considers it to be the most meaningful use of his time these days. Right now, our chief concern is redesigning the school system that my grandfather had in place to be more diverse in its teachings. Balin suggested that we add a class on basic agriculture to the mix, but theoretical knowledge is not the same as practical knowledge and the latter is not something that many Dwarrow have to impart, so I am not sure how helpful it would be.”

“Did you know,” Bella began conversationally, “That I was considered one of the best gardeners in the Shire?”

“Er, no, I didn’t,” Thorin returned, a bit confused.

“Did you also not know that I have a very large garden in which I’ll be planting all manner of fruits and vegetables and flowers and herbs come spring?” Bella continued, “A garden in which I’d be more than happy to teach Dwarflings how to grow green things?”

“Your teaching the children of the Mountain would be seen as a tremendous honor,” Thorin rejoined. “Though I would rather have a public garden built for that purpose. The location of your garden is meant to be a secret known only to those of the Royal Family and our most trusted guards.”

“You can be a mite bit overprotective, you know,” Bella sounded amused.

“When one’s heart is in the habit of riddling with dragons and destroying dark lords and throwing herself in front of arrows,” Thorin remarked seriously, “One develops an advanced sense of protectiveness to compensate.”

Bella rolled her eyes, “Tell me about Thranduil saving your life.”

“I snuck out of the Mountain when I was eleven years old, to escape my lessons, and nearly got skewered to death by a boar,” Thorin acquiesced. “Thranduil happened upon the scene and saved me. My grandfather… he forbid me from ever speaking of it in any capacity; he did not want his people feeling kindly toward the Elves, whom Thrór despised.”

“Why?” Bella wondered.

“He blamed them for my grandmother’s death,” Thorin answered, “She caught a rare illness which caused her to waste away. The Elves had no remedy for it and my grandfather found that he could not forgive that.”

“Do you hate Thranduil?”

“I certainly do not like him,” Thorin replied, “But I am more than capable of treating him cordially for the sake of our respective kingdoms… and Kíli and Tauriel, of course.”

Bella accepted that, or at least seemed to, and she ran her fingers over the scruff on his chin lightly, “Why haven’t you grown out your beard, Thorin?”

“I do not deserve to,” Thorin told her. “Not after what I did.”

Bella did not look all that impressed with that explanation, “You are entirely too melodramatic, my darling, it’s not healthy.”

“I hurt you-”

“And I forgave you,” Bella cut him off. “You’re never going to fully heal if you cannot manage to forgive yourself.”

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Ghivashel_ – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
  * _Khaeluh_ _–_ My Wolf
  * _Madtithbirzul_ – Little Golden Heart
  * _Adad_ – Father
  * _Amad_ – Mother
  * _Idad_ – Uncle
  * _Imad_ – Aunt
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Namaduh_ – My Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother
  * _Balil Emùzel Melhekhaz_ – Just Chamber of the King; (There was no word for courtroom that I could find)
  * _Kurushif Nîd_ _–_ Kneel Down
  * _Khathuzhinh_ _Dashunâl Mabaraz_ _–_ Elf (Female) Whore
  * _Â_ _fdo_ _hy_ _ar_ – Anvil Moon (The First Month on the Dwarven Calendar)
  * _Amrad_ _Shekâlaz_ _–_ Coward’s Death
  * _Tursiki_ _Khi_ – Burn It
  * _Imrid Amrad Ursul, Kalilâl Melhekh Undu ‘Abad_ _–_ Die a death of fire, false King Under the Mountain
  * _Khazâd_ – Dwarves



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quendi is what the Elves call themselves.
> 
> Lemon Beebrush looks like this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aloysia_citrodora#/media/File:Aloysia_citrodora_002.JPG
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed this, :). Only one chapter left in this story!


	11. Part the Eleventh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I received three separate emails complaining about one particular thing in the last chapter. Not the trial and execution scene, which, frankly, I expected would put some people off, but about the end scene where Bella told Thorin that Hobbits are, generally, violently homophobic. One person even wanted to argue that such homophobia was unrealistic and asked me to change the scene.
> 
> First off, this is a High Fantasy story, so some departure from reality really should be expected. Secondly, a violent reaction to homosexuality is NOT unrealistic. A pair of boys were just murdered by their government in Iran for being gay, it made the news because it violated international law, and it has only been in recent years that a person could not use the defense of “shock made me do it” for killing their family member/friend that they discovered was gay and have that defense accepted in the Untied States.
> 
> Maybe Tolkien’s Hobbits would never have reacted this way, they probably wouldn’t have, but I established early on that the Hobbits in this universe were vastly different to canon. Hobbits who would be willing to execute someone who is barren, (Bella), should they try to marry would have little problem executing someone who was gay and who refused to marry someone of the opposite sex. And the reasoning for doing so wouldn’t even be all that different.
> 
> Thirdly, I will NEVER alter my stories for the sake of someone else. I wrote this exactly the way it is because I wanted it to be this way. I write for MYSELF, not for other people. I chose to share this with all of you because I figured that there was a chance that at least one other person would appreciate it and be entertained by it.
> 
> Okay, rant over, thanks, and you all can enjoy the rest of the story now, :).

**_Chapter Eleven_ **

“You need handmaidens,” Dís announced to Bella without preamble as she swept into Bella’s sitting room, wearing a dress of violet muslin studded with amethysts, everyday wear for the Princess, “The Queen-to-be of Erebor should not be doing the dusting and scouring, not even of her own chambers.”

It was just before ten-thirty in the morning and Bella, upon returning to the Royal Wing, after a vigorous workout, and bathing, had decided that her suite needed a thorough scrubbing down.

“The only people who enter these rooms are members of the Royal Family,” Bella pointed out reasonably, at least as far as she was concerned, from where she was standing, on the arm of one of her chairs so that she could polish the mantle of her fireplace, “Or my bodyguards. It’s not as if anyone else has reason to know whether or not I clean my things myself.”

“You will have ladies-in-waiting, eventually.”

“I’m going to ask Lací to be one of my ladies-in-waiting tomorrow, actually,” Bella revealed. “Tauriel is going to ask her sister, Lucí, to be one of hers.”

“That’s wonderful; the Lady Lací will make a fine companion to you,” Dís replied with approval.

“She’s very kind,” Bella said, “And discreet.”

“There are guards besides Arníra and Arnura whose job it is to circulate the Royal Wing,” Dís countered, “And they have already begun to notice that no servants ever seem to enter your suite. Since Dwarrow are not exactly known for being discreet, they have come to the conclusion that you have no handmaidens and wonder why.”

“Perhaps because I like cleaning,” Bella stated.

“Who has been taking care of your laundry?” Dís questioned next.

“I’ve been doing it myself,” Bella admitted easily. “Hobbits need less slumber than Dwarves do and it’s not as if I have anything better to do while your brother sleeps.”

Dís sighed, “You are not meant to be doing your own laundry either.”

“Will the people of Erebor find the nonattendance of handmaidens in my suite to be offensive?” Bella inquired.

“Well, no, but they _will_ think it odd.”

“Dís,” Bella spoke firmly, “I am not a Dwarf.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Dís waved a hand dismissively.

“The people of Erebor are always going to find reason to think me odd simply for the fact that I’m a Hobbit,” Bella affirmed. “A good kind of odd, perhaps, but odd all the same.”

Dís deflated a bit as she was forced to acknowledge, “I suppose that’s true.”

“So then there’s really no harm in doing my own cleaning, is there?”

“My brother was right,” Dís said appreciatively, “He told me that you would not be swayed in this matter, that you could be as stubborn as any Dwarf.”

Bella shrugged and hopped lightly from the chair’s arm to the floor, “He knows me very well, your brother.”

“He told me that you have offered to teach one of your Crafts to the children of the Mountain,” Dís rejoined.

“Gardening, yes,” Bella responded, “Thorin has plans to build a garden for the Dwarflings to use; it will be very grand once it’s finished.”

“You shall make as fine a Queen as has ever graced this Mountain,” Dís declared.

************************************************************************

“I need to warn you, cousin,” Dáin announced, “That there very well may be fallout from Grijak’s family for his execution. They are merchants with considerable influence over the Dwarven clans that live in the far south. Diminutive these clans may be, when compared to the might of Erebor, but they control the wealth of the Harad- the black diamonds and the topaz and the lions that the region is known for.”

Thorin and Dáin were in the former’s study, going over the new trading agreements between Erebor and the Iron Hills to insure that nothing had been overlooked in their creation.

“I am aware,” Thorin assured his cousin. “The situation will be monitored as much as it can be; I have easy contact with King Aragorn, whom I have asked to warn me if Grijak’s kin pass by Gondor with the intention of heading further north. I believe that he will agree to this, for the sake of the Sunrise Princess if nothing else.”

“The power your betrothed has over the Men and Elves of Arda is formidable indeed, Thorin. Not even the White Council holds such sway over so many,” Dáin commented. “And it has never even occurred to her to use this power.”

“She is a gem of unspeakable rarity,” Thorin replied.

“And value,” Dáin rejoined, warning in his voice. “It is no secret that you, your Heirs, and your High Lords would do anything for her sake. King Aragorn, King Théoden, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Tharkûn, King Bard, and even Thranduil, the tree-shagger, would go to war for her if need be. The former Master of Lake-town will hardly be the last to try to use her; she’s a target for every would-be kidnapper seeking a ransom, Thorin, and for every individual that you have managed to piss off over the years she is the perfect bait to draw you out.”

Thorin grimaced, “I know, believe you me, I _know_.”

“There have been whispers, regarding your disparagement of the Arkenstone.”

Thorin looked at his cousin sharply, “I am not ignorant concerning this matter, Dáin. Regardless, I stand by what I said; the gem has brought nothing but misfortune to Durinsfolk.”

“It is not my place to disagree with you, cousin, and I’m not sure that I do. Circumstances having been what they were… well. I only seek to advise you of the situation,” Dáin returned. “Now that the festivals and trial have been concluded, I must make for home. I have been away from the Iron Hills long enough, and I must leave before winter sets in fully and the passes are blocked with snow.”     

Thorin had been expecting this; a year was a long time to be parted from one’s family, “When will you leave?”

“On the seventh,” Dáin revealed. “In three days’ time.”

“You shall miss the _Gwivashazdînmera_ _g_ ,” Thorin noted.

Dáin nodded, “Yes, but to delay another week could be costly.”

“You shall be missed,” Thorin said. “But I do understand.”

“Thank you,” Dáin laid the final section of the trade agreements down, “Everything appears to be in order.” He stood and stretched, “With your leave, I do believe I shall wander down to the kitchens to fetch some of that marvelous oak cake that the Princess taught the cooks to make. I think, perhaps, that I shall miss it the most when I depart.”

Thorin snorted in amusement, “Enjoy your sweets, cousin.”

“I shall,” Dáin called out merrily as he exited.

Thorin was not alone for long though, as Fíli traipsed into his study a few minutes later, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Thorin declared before his nephew could start rambling.

Fíli blinked, “What?”

“Yes, you have my permission to court the Princess Sigrid,” Thorin told him.

“How in Mahal’s name did you know that I was going to ask that?” Fíli demanded.

“You are not nearly as adept at hiding things from me as you seem to think that you are,” Thorin retorted bluntly.

Fíli opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, “I worried that you might not approve because… because of how a marriage to her would affect the line of succession.”

“You are my heir, Fíli,” Thorin said gently, “As your son shall be yours, whether or not he has the blood of Men in his veins.”

“Thank you, _Idad_ ,” Fíli murmured, his voice thick with gratitude and relief.

“You are welcome, my sister-son,” Thorin spoke.

Fíli cleared his throat, “Your scruff is thicker.”

“Bella asked me to cease shaving it,” Thorin explained with a shrug. “She told me that my inability to forgive myself was depressing her and that if I hadn’t managed to do so by the time my beard had grown to a proper length that she was going to seek professional help for my melodrama and angst.”

Fíli laughed freely, “Well, you have to admit, she does have a point.”

“Go make sure your brother isn’t causing a riot of some sort,” Thorin mock-growled. “He’s good at that.”

“You’re never going to let that go are you?” Fíli questioned, “He was only twenty.”

“And yet he still managed to incite an entire town of Men into a frenzied rebellion against their mayor,” Thorin stated wryly. “I’m going to ensure his _grandchildren_ know that story.”

************************************************************************

One of the reasons why Nori had suggested that Dori select a location in the Southern Quarter of Erebor’s Royal Bazaar for the Silver Raven was that all of the buildings in said section were connected by a series of secret tunnels running above, beneath, and in between them. Only members of the Company knew about their existence, or about any of the other secret shafts that made Nori’s job much easier than it could have been otherwise. The other Shadow Shields, all three of them, (Nori had issues with trust, obviously), were not permitted to know about the passageways and they operated on a vastly different level than Nori did.

The Lords and Ladies of the Lower Council would probably be horrified to learn how little privacy they actually had; not that Nori much cared about that, as privacy was a privilege that they had yet to earn. Some of them, Nori had already determined, never would. The Royal Wing was full of secret passages too, but not the kind that would allow Nori to hear through the walls.

When Nori had learned that his little sister had decided to name Lací, daughter of Gudmun, as her first Lady-in-Waiting, he had spent hours following the Dwarrowdam around to ensure that she would be no threat to Bella. Her kindness had impressed Nori, though he would have to keep an eye on her tendency to think the best of everyone until she had no choice not to. It could get her into trouble otherwise. Regardless, she would be a good friend to Bella and Bella’s choice would also, inadvertently, garner the approval of many on the Lower Council as the Lord Gudmun was quite a popular Dwarf. Lucí, with her enthusiasm and her total disregard for the archetypal viewpoints that Dwarrow as a whole held regarding Elves, would also be a good match for Tauriel.

Bella had arranged to meet Lací at the teahouse to discuss the matter because the Dwarrowdam would not be allowed within the Royal Wing until she accepted the position of Lady-in-Waiting. Nori and Bofur had concealed themselves in the narrow passage, though it was more of a crawlspace, really, above the shop, where they could witness everything, while Fíli and Dori provided a visible presence inside the Silver Raven. Fíli, because he was Bella’s eldest brother and being there was both his right and his duty, and Dori, because he was the one providing the tea. Nori and Bofur shared the opinion that bad things always happened to their sister when she was out of their sight, and history would back up that belief, and so they had decided to watch the exchange.

Bofur was not as sure about Lací as Nori was, but then Bofur was wary of all strangers who wished to get to know their sister. Bofur would be amiable and warm to everyone he met, unless they showed more than a passing interest in Bella or Nori or any other member of the Company, at which point the good-natured demeanor that he was known for morphed into cool apathy at best. Such was the jealous nature of many Dwarrow when it came to cherished loved ones. Protocol demanded that Bella had to have ladies-in-waiting, but that did not mean that her brothers necessarily had to like it.

“Bella,” Lací greeted warmly as she entered the Silver Raven. She caught sight of Fíli and Dori and curtsied respectfully to both of them, “Your Highness. Lord Dori.”

“Lady Lací,” Fíli inclined his head toward her.

“Welcome,” Dori said cordially, “The tea will be ready in just a moment.”

“Hello, Lací,” Bella grinned, taking one of Lací’s hands and guiding her toward a table. “I love your necklace. It is another kind of sea creature, yes?”

“A dolphin,” Lací revealed, taking a seat only after Bella had done the same. “It was so lovely of you to invite me to tea.”

“I wished to say ‘thank you’,” Bella explained, “For identifying the Dwarrow who attempted to harm our King.”

“There is no need at all to thank me, Bella, for my honor demanded no less of me,” Lací insisted, as Dori placed a steaming cup of cherry vanilla tea before her. “Although, I have found myself wishing that you will never scare me like that again. I do not know what miracle saved you from that arrow, but I would not like it to be tested for a second time.”

It was generally inferred, and rightly so, that Bella had to have been wearing protection of some kind which had helped to save her when she dove between the King and the projectile meant to kill him, but few, especially when it came to non-Dwarves, would guess that her armor had been painstakingly laced with something so precious as diamonds, over a thousand of them, in fact. Because of this and the spread knowledge of just how much force that the arrow’s strike had possessed, it had been assumed by many that some higher power had stepped in to keep the Sunrise Princess from coming to harm. When Nori considered how unnaturally fast the bruise on his sister’s shoulder had faded, he wondered too.

“I was kept safe by diamond armor, crafted by the King,” Bella divulged, adding honey and cream to her own tea, “Which I wear under all of my dresses. When I’m not in a dress, such as right now, I wear armor made of mithril, also made by the King, though when he was much younger. He told me when he gave it to me that a part of him just seemed to know that his One would be small in stature.”

“That is a comfort to me,” Lací returned tentatively, “But, sharing that knowledge with others may not be prudent, Bella.”

Nori liked her even more at that.

‘ _She’s got common sense, at least_ ,’ Bofur signed in swift Iglishmêk in the dim light of the tunnel.

“Oh, I know,” Bella assured Lací in a wry tone of voice, “I’ve been lectured, at length, about this very topic. But I trust you and because I trust you, my eldest brother has something that he would like to ask you, since I can’t do it myself, apparently.”

“Lady Lací, daughter of Gudmun,” Fíli began in a stiff, formal voice, only to alter his tone to something a bit more pleasant when Bella kicked him lightly in the shin, “My sister has expressed her desire to name you as her Chief Lady-in-Waiting if you are willing.”

“It would be a most profound honor to serve the Princess in such a way,” Lací responded, a bit of shock coloring her voice.

Bella smile became a truly radiant thing, like sunshine bursting through clouds, “I was told that it is customary to provide you with a gift to welcome you into the service of the Royal Family. As per tradition, my eldest brother made you this.”

Bella slid a small object wrapped in butter yellow silk over to Lací, who accepted it graciously. Lací unwrapped it and gasped, “Oh, they’re beautiful.”

They were beautiful, the ear cuffs that Fíli had crafted. Gold with tiny suns, roses, and leaves of yellow, red, and green crystal, they were a symbol that Lací’s fealty would from now on be, first and foremost, to Bella, even before that which she owed the King. It was an ancient custom, designed to safeguard the women of the Royal Family lest the King’s mind was turned against them, either through magic or gold lust or simple caprice.

Lací fixed the ornaments into place and then rose from her chair and moved to kneel before Bella, “With Mahal as my witness, I do pledge my loyalty and friendship to you, Your Highness, for all the years of my life.”

Bella pulled Lací up into a tight hug, murmuring in lilted Greentongue, “ _Trwy ras y wraig gwyrdd, efallai y byddwn bob amser fod yn ffrindiau_.”

Nori understood enough Greentongue to know that Bella’s words were some sort of blessing.

There was a knock at the door of the Silver Raven, making Nori tense up. It swung open to reveal Balin, who looked both apologetic and a bit apprehensive, which was not a combination that Nori liked to see upon the other’s countenance.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Balin spoke up, “Although, I see you’re about finished, which is wonderful. Rangers have arrived at the _Mekh_ _êmel_ and have requested to speak to you, _Namaduh_. Apparently, they bring news for you from the Shire.”

Well, damn.

************************************************************************

Only once the Rangers had been properly thanked for their service and sent on their way back to Dale, (Thorin had offered the Men accommodations and sustenance, of course, but they had respectfully declined), did Thorin get the chance to seek Bella out. He had not missed the hesitance in her movements as she had accepted the letter they had carried from the Shire, nor had the trepidation in her countenance, as she had gazed upon the small, red oak chest that the Rangers had presented to her, escaped his notice.

He found her in her study, an oval frame clutched in her hands as she stared at the picture it held. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, making her eyes seem fuller and brighter. The chest was ajar at her feet and the letter lay, opened, upon her desk.

“ _Ghivashel_?” Thorin questioned gently.

“I thought that I’d never see these things again,” Bella admitted in a rough whisper, “I didn’t dare to hope…”

“The letter contained good news then?”

“Good and bad,” Bella cleared her throat. “Half of it was exactly what I expected it to be, but the other half of it contained things that I never would have anticipated. You can read it, if you like.”

Thorin picked up the letter without pause and began to read.

_Dear Bella,_

_I am well aware that, given the circumstances of our estranged relationship, you probably have no desire at all to hear from me. I could not in good conscience, however, leave these words unstated, or unwritten, as the case must be._

_News of your deeds in the east and south has reached the Shire; the Rangers have spread the knowledge of the Dark Lord’s defeat and the demise of the Fire Drake, as well as the pivotal roles you played in both of these astonishing affairs, far and wide across Eriador and, at least I suspect, the rest of Arda as well. Thank you, dear cousin, for your bravery and selflessness. Thank you, for saving us all from calamity._

_I wish I could tell you that the rest of the Shire is as grateful as I am, that you would be welcomed as a hero should you ever choose to return to your homeland, but this would not be true and could, in fact, be devastating to you._

_Your uncle, the Thain, is immeasurably furious with you, Bella, and has issued a warrant for your arrest should you set foot in the Shire or even tread near its borders. He has already signed the order for your execution as well, an act that has the support of the majority. They have been convinced, you see, that your actions, however noble, have placed our people in grave danger from outsiders. Your uncle insists that you have called far too much attention to Hobbits and so must pay the price for ‘your boldness and immodesty’, which are his words, not mine. He’s also convinced everyone that you’ve eloped with one of the dwarves you so ‘scandalously’ ran off with and have violated both the sanctity of our laws and committed the ‘most profane sacrilege against the Green Lady’._

_I must hope that you are as safe with the Dwarrow you have claimed as your kin as the Rangers have assured me you are, because to return to the Shire would mean your death, cousin. I cannot imagine that the Thain would risk drawing more attention to our people, the very crime he has judged you guilty of, by sending anyone to try to force you back here, so I believe it is safe to say that you shall be safe from his lunacy as long as you keep your distance, as disheartening as that may seem._

_I cannot express fully how deeply ashamed I am, both by our people’s appalling behavior in the present, there is no excuse for their disdain and cruelty, and because I have had to come to terms with the indisputable fact that their past callousness, and my own, drove you to desperately seek family and love and home with another race. The Rangers have assured me that Erebor is grand and beautiful, but all I can think of is how cold it must be to live in a Mountain where winters are harsh and food does not grow as it ought, to be so far removed from the green growth and blooming life that Hobbits need to thrive. I shall not dare to beg your forgiveness, but I do offer you my most sincere apologies and regrets. I am so sorry for how deplorably I treated you, Bella Mira, for ever acting as if you were less than perfect the way you are. We were such close friends as fauntlings and I spurned that friendship for the sake of respectability, which is an ephemeral thing and, I have discovered, not worth much at all when compared to love._

_Not everyone in the Shire believes as Isumbras Took does, I hope that shall be a comfort to you, if nothing else in this letter is. Your loyal neighbors, the Gamgees, wish for me to thank you. It was they who managed to secretly procure your parents’ portraits and your mother’s silver, ring, and glory box for you; they are sorry that they could rescue nothing else, but at least you may know that Lobelia was livid about the theft of the silver. My fiancé, your cousin, Primula Brandybuck, as well as your cousins, Esmeralda and Paladin, are also firmly on your side._

_May your heart ever be full of inextinguishable light and golden laughter and indomitable love. May your spirit ever sing of freedom and joy. May the green earth of our Mother ever provide. May Yavanna ever be with you, in good times and bad._

_Stay safe, Cousin,_

_Drogo Baggins_

“The things they sent you,” Thorin spoke, carefully keeping his anger in check, “They belonged to your mother?”

“Yes,” Bella replied softly and nodded toward the chest. “This was my mother’s glory box. She kept my baby clothes and her wedding dress in it. The Gamgees managed to smuggle my mother’s silverware, her wedding ring, and my parent’s portraits into it as well. I wish I had a way of thanking them, but I do not dare send a letter, lest I get them into serious trouble with my uncle.”

“They took your home from you,” Thorin stated and he knew at once that he had not managed to conceal his fury from her this time.

Bella looked up at him, “They took Bag End, yes, but _you_ are my home, Thorin, and they could never take you from me. They have neither the means nor the fortitude to even attempt such a thing.”

By Mahal, it was very difficult to sustain his righteous wrath when his beloved said such things to him.

“They had no right,” Thorin maintained.

“Perhaps not,” Bella shrugged, setting the portrait carefully on her desk. Bella looked very much like her mother, Thorin noted, except for the coloring of her hair and eyes, “But they are half a world away and there is not much that you or I can do about it, short of declaring war. Which you may _not_ do, by the way.”

Thorin wisely decided not to mention that he had, in fact, been considering it. “You have given up so much, _Sanâzyung_.”

“I have gained far more than I have sacrificed,” Bella countered. “I have a family who loves me and I have you. You, my brothers, my sister, and my friends are worth so much more than the trinkets that I had to leave behind in the Shire.”

“You forsook all that you knew,” Thorin rejoined sotto voce.

“And I have never regretted it,” Bella declared firmly, reaching out to gently tweak his betrothal braid in affection.

“Not even when I was being an arrogant sod?” Thorin wondered.

Bella smiled at him, “Not even then.”

“I would give you the world,” Thorin told her, pulling her close, “If you wished it.”

“There is only one thing I desire at the moment,” Bella announced as she melted against him, weaving her arms around his neck.

“What is that?” Thorin asked.

“For you to make love to me,” Bella responded.

Thorin’s eyes widened a bit in surprise, “Are you sure?”

They had rushed into sex the first time, spurred to be so intimate by the looming threat of the dragon. They had not even been courting when Thorin had originally taken Bella into his bed. It had been wonderful, Bella had ruined him for anyone else ever again, but their hastiness had led to an unintended consequence. But then, what was history but a series of unintended consequences?

They had meant to reassure each other of their love with the intercourse, but had instead used sex as a mere outlet for their fears and frustrations. They had used it as an alternative to talking, with disastrous results. It had not bonded their souls, as it was meant to bind couples together; rather, it had been their only means of communication. The lack of true, meaningful connection had led to doubt… and doubt had left Thorin’s mind susceptible to the illness of his forefathers.

Thorin had resigned himself to waiting, though for how long he would be waiting he had not been sure. He had been the one to initiate the intimacy before and he had gotten it very, very wrong so it seemed only right that it be Bella’s decision this time.

Bella raised an eyebrow at him, “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t, dear heart. This isn’t because of these things,” and she gestured at the chest, “Or the letter. I want to be One with you.”

Thorin smiled and lifted Bella into his arms in a swift and dramatic sweeping motion, making her giggle in delight, and carried her into her bedchamber over to the bed, “As you wish, _Kurd _û_ h_.”

************************************************************************

The aftermath was like this: their limbs entangled, the sheets twisted around their bodies, and Bella idly running her fingers through Thorin’s chest hair, both of them utterly sated and completely at peace. Everything was as it should have been all along, their souls singing in harmony.

And then Bella’s left wrist was accosted by a sudden, powerful heat that made her gasp and sit up.

“Bella?” Thorin questioned in alarm, “What’s wrong.”

Bella didn’t reply, too caught up in watching as a beautiful wreath of leaves and flowers appeared on her skin, glittering in a way that ink simply did not.

“What is that?” Thorin demanded.

“It… it hasn’t happened since the earliest days of the Settling, the last time was right after the Shire was founded,” Bella murmured, touching the mark on her wrist lightly, reverently, before tracing the edges of the tiny, shimmering green oak leaves and miniature, sparkling crimson roses that made up the wreath in wonder.

“ _What_ hasn’t happened?” Thorin asked, his voice laced with real concern. Bella could hardly blame him for his worry; after all, it was not everyday that one witnessed the pale skin of their betrothed’s wrist suddenly become so altered.

“Did you know anything about Hobbit lore and magic before you met me?” Bella questioned. “Rumors that perhaps you dismissed as fanciful?”

“I had heard a few tales,” Thorin responded slowly. “Though I did not believe most of them, there have always been whispers concerning the connection that Hobbits have to the magic of the earth, stories of how the association went beyond a simple penchant for growing things and was more of an affinity.”

“Hobbits do have magic,” Bella revealed. “We pour our spirits into the earth simply by moving upon it; that is why our lands are so fertile, why we have never feared not having an abundance of food. The Shire is the single most fruitful place in Arda for this reason.”

“Thranduil remarked to me,” Thorin told her thoughtfully, “That he was surprised by how quickly the land around the Mountain was healing; he had believed that it would take much longer to recover when he looked upon it during the summit in Dale. You’re healing Erebor, just by being here.”

“Maybe,” Bella blinked in surprise, “Though it’s rare for a single Hobbit to have such a great impact on the earth.”

“You cannot claim that you are not the most singularly inimitable Hobbit to have ever lived, _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin remarked.

Bella felt herself blush, felt her cheeks and ears heating up, “Were there any stories in particular about Hobbits that caught your attention?”

“I always enjoyed the myth that Hobbits can grow their children in cabbage patches if they so desire,” Thorin related in a dry tone.

“Oh for the love of Yavanna,” Bella sighed, “It happened in a cabbage patch _once_.”

Thorin inhaled sharply, “Bella, are you telling me that the legends about such things are _true_?”

“Partly, at least,” Bella admitted. “It is not a choice, though, as we can only create fauntlings in such a manner with the blessing of the Green Lady. It has been hundreds of years since the last time, as I said, but there have been many occasions in Hobbit history in which our Mother induced one of her sons or daughters, with the help of his or her spouse, to grow a child in the way that she used to first bring Hobbits into Arda.”

“The first Hobbits were grown?” Thorin inquired.

“Yes,” Bella nodded, “Deep in the heart of what is now known as the Fangorn Forest, did the first fifteen Hobbits spring from the earth at the will of our Mother. It was there that the first seven couples and the Heartbridge were taught the secrets of the earth, protected by the Ents and the Fae as they grew and learned. The first seven families, the Tooks, the Brandybucks, the Bagginses, the Proudfoots, the Bolgers, the Underhills, and the Hornblowers, were given the tasks of multiplying and spreading out across Arda. The first task my people have fulfilled admirably; the second, however, was eventually deemed too dangerous and so the Shire came to be settled.”

“Why was the fifteenth Hobbit called the ‘Heartbridge’?” Thorin wanted to know.

“That knowledge has been lost to time, but, considering what we have recently discovered about Durin and his Queen…” Bella trailed off meaningfully.

“Ah,” Thorin understood. His eyes widened then and he gasped out in realization, “The mark on your wrist…”

“Is the Mark of Yavanna Kementári,” Bella confirmed. “It means that, when the time is right, I shall be able to weave a tiny part of your soul and mine into a Soulseed and then we will be able to plant it. The seed shall eventually blossom into a child or children.”

“By Mahal,” Thorin breathed. “When the time is right?”

“Do you wish to explain to your sister that we purposely had children before we were married?” Bella said pointedly. “Also, I can hardly explain it, but it doesn’t feel safe to grow a child until the White Wizard has been defeated. There is something screaming in my soul to wait.”

“I… I think that I can feel it too,” Thorin revealed.

“I want you to promise me that Fíli will remain your Heir,” Bella requested, “Even if we have a son.”

“Of course he will,” Thorin assured. “What do you mean _if_ we have a son?”

“I’m well aware that the Dwarven gender ratio is skewed,” Bella replied, “But Hobbits do not have that problem.”

“If we are blessed with a daughter,” Thorin murmured, “I hope that she looks just like you.”

“You are a hopeless sap,” Bella sighed, “And I love you so terribly much.”

“You are my heart and soul and spirit,” Thorin rejoined, “My perfect match in every way and I shall love you until the very end of time, my Bella.”

“Till the end of time,” Bella smiled at him, blissfully happy, “And beyond.”

************************************************************************

**_Translations_ **

  * _Ghivashel_ – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
  * _Sanâzyung_ – Perfect Love
  * _Kurd _û_ h_ – My Heart
  * _Adad_ – Father
  * _Amad_ – Mother
  * _Idad_ – Uncle
  * _Imad_ – Aunt
  * _Namad_ – Sister
  * _Namadith_ – Little Sister
  * _Namaduh_ – My Sister
  * _Nadad_ – Brother
  * _Nadadith_ – Little Brother
  * _Gwivashazdînmera_ _g_ – Harvest Festival
  * _Trwy ras y wraig gwyrdd, efallai y byddwn bob amser fod yn ffrindiau_ – By the grace of the Green Lady, may we always be friends (Greentongue)
  * _Mekh_ _êmel_ – Great Gates



**_THE END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that’s a wrap! For this part of ‘Kismet’ anyway. Part Two is almost done being written, at which point it will enter Beta and endure editing. It’s entitled ‘The Parting Gift’ and will probably be up around the start of September.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who read this and left Kudos or Reviews. A big special ‘thank you’ to my Beta, who held my hand throughout all of this, and to LadyLaran, who always went out of her way to leave inspiring comments and who is an incredibly talented author herself. I really appreciate it guys!
> 
> If anyone wants to chat or would like to ask a question that you think I won’t answer here, because it might spoil the plot, feel free to email me: soabasworld@yahoo.com.

**Author's Note:**

> Fanart for this can be found here: http://soabas-world.tumblr.com/post/149344497704/aesthetic-for-from-the-fires-of-mordor-which-can


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